Stranger
by freakochicko
Summary: RYRO. Days after the incident on Alcatraz, Rogue finds herself at a deserted bus stop after running away from the mansion, feeling empty. Can she find her path towards emancipation with the help of an old friend? X3 spoilers.
1. I: Strangers

**STRANGER**

_**Summary:** Even with the Cure running through her veins like a stark reminder, Rogue still feels alienated and isolated. She finds herself at a deserted bus stop after running away from the Mansion, craving for some time alone. Will she find her path towards emancipation with the help of an old friend? (Intended RoguexPyro / MariexJohn) X3 spoilers. _

---

She could just imagine the stranger leering at her. She could almost _feel_ his gaze lingering over her, but she chose to ignore it. After all, she knew she could take him out anytime if he tried anything on her. Even without her powers. Those Danger Room sessions they had back at the Institute had seen to that. And to top it all off, the self-defence lessons that she took all those years ago could resurface. Bobby had been her tutor.

Bobby Drake.

She recalled that one time; that one _day_; that one _memory_ where he had given her pointers on how to send an assailant flying over her head. She used to think that it had been one unforgettable memory. Now, all she just wanted to do was to forget.

"_So, you grab him by the arms like this," Bobby said, demonstrating as he took hold of Rogue's own two arms, careful not to touch her skin but the long sleeves of her coat instead. "And then you thrust your hip against his lower torso and pitch him forward and up, over your back."_

_John, who was there all the while, watching, burst out laughing._

_He let go of her then._

"_What's so funny?" Bobby looked annoyed._

_John, after calming himself down, which took awhile, replied, "Did you have make it sound so… explicit?"_

Rogue smiled wanly, recalling the way John always used to get under Bobby's skin and vice versa. Those were the cherished days when he'd still been there with them, the days when they weren't so distant, the days when she and Bobby were still-

_Screw this,_ she thought sullenly. She knew things have changed. Things always do. And as much as she didn't like it, she had to move on. Had to move forward. And never look back.

A lone bus came roaring up the empty street. The only other vehicle she'd seen since her own bus had dropped her off. It came to a grinding halt in front of the bus stop. No one got off, but the disturbing stranger got on, much to her relief.

It drove off again, leaving a grey cloud of smoke in its wake. Rogue resisted the urge to cough and choke on the fumes.

And then she was alone again. More alone than ever this time. But it didn't matter. She liked to be alone, after all, it was what she had endured all her life before taking the Cure. Only this time, she finally came to that realisation. _Ironic_ she thought, _that it was only when I cured myself of this curse that I've realised how alone I had been and how alone I will STILL be._

She sighed. Maybe running away wasn't such a great idea.

Maybe.

She needed more time to think it over.

Therefore, when another unknown stranger appeared at the bus stop, she was slightly annoyed. _Damnit. Can't I just have some privacy here?_ She inhaled deeply, and exhaled silently. She reasoned to herself that she wasn't being disturbed by the intruder anyway. She couldn't even see him. But she knew he was standing somewhere behind her, out of view, probably leaning against one of the pillars.

Unzipping her bag, she reached to grab her wallet to check that she had enough to get her back to the mansion. That is, if she ever _did_ want to go back. As she looked through her wallet, her eyes came to fall on the single picture that was displayed proudly in the single photo-holder. It was her. And Bobby. They both looked very much in love. A love that she knew never existed now. She had a sudden image of another girl replacing _her_ in the picture. Kitty Pryde.

She wrenched the photograph out her wallet in fury, stared at it a second time, and then promptly ripped it in two. _We're done,_ she thought bitterly before throwing the two pieces of paper to the ground.

For a fleeting instant, she wanted to get up and start stomping on the torn picture. Maybe trampling it would ease the pain. Trampling _and_ exploding into a fit of tears. But no, she didn't. Wouldn't…

Couldn't. Because the tattered photo had just burst into flame.

All Rogue could do was stare. How the hell had _that_ happened? And the flames disappeared as instantly as they came, leaving behind a trail of smoke and the ashes of what had once been the photograph of her and Bobby Drake.

"Didn't they ever tell you that littering's bad for the environment?" came a lazy voice from behind her. _Fuck. _It was the stranger talking.

Only, it was no stranger. Rogue could recognise that voice _anywhere_. Admittedly, she was surprised. It's been awhile since she actually last heard it.

"Pyro?"

He gave a short laugh and she _knew_ it was him. The laugh itself damn well proved it. Rogue turned in her seat to find the pyrokinetic manipulator staring back at her, amused. She eyed the boy. Only, she knew he wasn't a boy anymore.

"So it's Pyro now, huh? You always ever called me John. Never Pyro. What gives?"

She was startled at how much he had grown. But in her eyes, she knew that he would only ever be the ignorant, uncouth youth she was used to. Wearily, she recalled how the name 'John' had irritated the hell out of him. He had always insisted that people call him 'Pyro' instead.

"I'm sorry, _John_," she corrected, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and all the while looking for any signs of a change in expression.

None.

Not even a flicker of annoyance. Why she decided to test him, she didn't know. Maybe it was to make certain, to _see _, if he had changed since she last saw him. To see if there was any of the _old_ John left in him.

But he simply replied, "Nah, just stick with calling me Pyro. It sounds so much more-"

"Cooler," Rogue finished for him, "I know."

"Damn straight."

Rogue only shook her head, a gesture so small that she knew he probably didn't catch, and turned to look back at the deserted road in front of the bus stop. The sun was going down now, and an orange glow was cast upon the both of them.

"Aren't you even gonna' offer me a seat? Or should I just stand here?" John drawled.

Rogue kept silent. However, she shifted to one side on the bus stop seats, indicating that she didn't mind if he came to sit next to her or not. She was indifferent either way.

John was equally as silent as he sat down. Close. She didn't move away, but she still didn't bother to look at him.

Although it wasn't an uncomfortable one, the silence was almost deafening to her; almost suffocating, and she was glad when he decided to finally break it.

"So," he started lightly, "aren't you afraid I might try to kill you or something?"

Rogue tilted her head towards John, finally looking at him full in the eyes. He was so close to her, but she felt no intimidation. None.

"Kill me?"

"Yup. Me apparently being an evil bastard and all that jazz. I could kill you with the flick of my wrist if I wanted."

Rogue wanted to laugh. He looked serious. So incredibly serious. But she knew there was a kind of hidden humour in his voice, one that no other would have been able to identify. He was _testing_ her. Just as she was testing him before.

"No. I'm not afraid. You wouldn't kill me," she replied simply. And she was sure of it. He wouldn't and she knew it, even if he himself didn't.

John stared at her for a couple of seconds and then nodded, "I guess you would know," he said offhandedly.

Rogue knew what he meant by that. But she decided not to comment. The sky was darkening now, the orange glow around them was turning blood-red.

They lapsed into silence once again. Rogue had so much in her head right now that she didn't even care.

Finally, she spoke up, saying the one thing that was on her mind for so long. "I thought you were dead." Her voice was deathly quiet.

"Yeah? Everyone else thinks so. But I guess they're all indifferent about it, huh? They don't _care_ if I'm dead or alive."

Rogue had a strong feeling that he was referring to the people back at the Institute. And she knew that it was true. Hell, the only time she recalled John ever being mentioned after his 'supposed' death was when Bobby had given her all the details about their face-off at Alcatraz just before Jean Grey decimated everything.

This reminder of the man who froze her heart made her want to ground her teeth in exasperation. But instead, she started talking again.

"Many people died, you know?" She was careful not to mention Magneto's name for the sake of it.

John nodded once, his mind going to the Professor. Charles Xavier.

"Logan killed Dr. Grey." Rogue continued, looking up into the bloody sky, "_she_ killed Professor Xavier and Mr. Summers."

This was something new. John never knew Scott Summers was dead; much less that he was killed by the woman he loved. But then again, he didn't see him at the battlefield that was Alcatraz. He didn't see Rogue either. And he knew why.

"How's the Cure working for you?" he sounded nonchalant. But Rogue knew better.

Shuddering, she recalled the day she took the cure. Immediately after the needle pierced her skin, she felt genuine regret. Not pain. Just genuine, heavy regret. But she couldn't reverse the choice she had made. And what made it worse was the fact that she still didn't feel as though she were one of them, didn't feel as though she fit in. Despite the fact that she could touch others now. John asking her how it was working for her made her want to kill him. How he knew about her taking the Cure, she didn't want to know.

She smiled wryly. "I gave up so much for so little," was her reply.

John's head whipped around so suddenly that Rogue was sure he saw right through her and was going to say something about Bobby. But she relaxed. Why would he have any reason to? Maybe-

"I had a chat with your boyfriend the day you decided to take the Cure." _Maybe not._

She tried not to look too surprised.

"Believe me," John continued, "when he confirmed my doubts that you were going for it, the first thing that crossed my mind was _could you get any more pathetic?_ You betrayed us. Your own _kind_. But I guess I kinda' knew why."

_And why's that?_ Rogue wanted to ask. She knew damn well he **didn't** know why. He knew nothing about what it's like to be someone who couldn't touch another person in fear of killing them. He knew nothing about how lonely she felt all the time, _every_ time.

"It's not that simple, Pyro. It never was. You know it. So stop acting like you know me so well, oka-"

"Again with the _Pyro_. What the fuck, Rogue. You never, ever used to call me that," and then much more seriously he said, "But I _do_ know how you feel. You feel cold and lonely. Like all purpose has left you for some other world."

Rogue stared at John for a long while. And in a new light. Why didn't she see it sooner? She should have known; he was as cold and lonely as she was. He had been. Ever since his fall from grace. His fall from good to corrupt. From moral to immoral. What caused his descent, she would never know. So many questions unanswered. So many different paths to take.

"What made you leave?"

"What made _you_?" he countered almost immediately.

Rogue blinked. She knew she had been caught out. He knew she ran to get away from the Institute. To get away from _them_.

"Well?" he demanded.

Rogue only shrugged.

The fire manipulator laughed. "Was it because you wanted independence? Wanted the power to feel like you're in control? Wanted _freedom?_"

_God, this kid still doesn't get it, does he?_ Rogue glared John.

"Ah, I know," he said softly, "you left because of _him_ didn't you? Because of _love_." _Damn._

Rogue stood up suddenly, seething with anger. "And what do _you_ know about love?" she snarled.

For a second, he looked surprised. But not because of her sudden flare. It was what she had said.

"Alright," he said at last, "I'm sorry," he sounded almost as though he was. Almost. "There's obviously something shitty going on between you and your boyfriend. But whatever it is, I won't be a part of it."

"He's not my boyfriend, you prick!" Rogue almost yelled, "He has a name and you bloody well know it. So stop calling him my boyfriend!" she kicked at the ashes that once had been a perfectly good photograph, tears already blurring her vision. But she wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of _him_. Not like this.

Her breathing was heavy and ragged and full of pent-up frustration. She tried hard not to, but she blinked. And a single tear escaped her eye.

John stood. Rogue knew he was a lot taller than she was but she couldn't care less. If he was going to harm her, she didn't give a damn. If he was going to walk away, all the better. But what she didn't expect was the embrace that he gave her.

It wasn't a friendly hug, ones that didn't have meaning. It wasn't a close hug either, ones that lovers shared. It was a tight, rough hug full of shared feelings and emotions. She cried in his arms and never wanted to let go. So much had been lost between them and so little had been rekindled so far. And she knew that for him to embrace her like this was probably hurting him even more than it was hurting her.

She finally let go of him. And then apologised.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She looked helplessly at the floor. "For everything."

John understood.

"You don't need to apologise, Marie. It was my feelings to begin with. You were never meant to know."

Rogue frowned. _Marie_. He never called her that. "But now I…" she searched for words. Everything was clouding her mind. When she had deliberately touched John to stop his rampage back at Bobby's house all those months ago, she had absorbed so much. Too much. And what she found out was unbelievable. She was so surprised that he didn't say anything. Didn't tell her.

And then he just left.

"But now you what?" John prompted. She knew he wanted to hear what she was about to say. There was _hope_ in his voice. As though the hug they just shared meant something so much more. She was torn.

She couldn't bring herself to say what she wanted to. What _was_ she going to say? That she no longer loved Bobby but someone else instead? _Him_? She shook her head slowly.

"I can't."

John nodded. As though her answer was what he had expected all along. But Rogue knew. Hell, John knew that Rogue knew.

"I can't. Every day I wake up with memories and thoughts of someone _else_ and they can't get out of my head. Every day I go through hell and back even though I took the Cure. I thought it would help me; it only made things worse. So much worse. He doesn't care anymore, John. Bobby doesn't care. And now… I can't," she said simply, "I can't go on."

John stared. She had called him _John._ And he knew now, how much Bobby had hurt her.

"So you can't go on just because you sacrificed all that for the ice cube?" it was more of a statement than a question, "Want me to go kick his ass for you then?"

She ignored his snide offer. "No, John." Her voice was quiet. "I can't go on because I've fallen for someone else. But it's too late now to do anything."

"Someone else," John repeated although he knew full well who that 'someone else' was. And he was filled with regret. It _was_ too late.

"It's much too late. We've gone so far in different directions. And now I don't even know if he still shares the same feelings."

John looked away.

It was pitch dark outside now. All the light that was available was from the overhead lamp above the bus stop shelter. Another bus finally roared towards them.

It went past them, with neither of them flagging it down.

And then silence again.

It was getting colder as the night progressed and Rogue couldn't help but shiver. She finally sat back down and bathed in the awkward silence. Her head was surprisingly empty. Which was strange. Just a moment ago she had so much to think about. Now, nothing really mattered anymore.

"He still does."

She looked back up at John.

"He still does," he repeated.

And for the first time in weeks, Rogue smiled a real smile.

---

_-A/N-: I thought it was really annoying the way they ended X3 like that. Rogue shouldn't have taken the cure (no matter how temporary it was) and what the heck happened to Pyro? They couldn't have just killed him! Whatever. There should be more RYRO fanfics out there. Period._

_Anyway, there were probably some parts of this chapter that you didn't understand. Believe me though, the whole thing has meaning behind it. Kudos to those who understand some parts that were pretty obscure._

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_NOTE: This fic was meant to be a one-shot. But due to overwhelming response, I've turned it multi-chaptered. _


	2. II: Companions

_-A/N-:All this is is the part I edited out from the previous chapter. Treat it as a 'sort of' deleted scene. The reason why I took it out in the first place was because it didn't seem to fit. But here it is anyway._

Many thanks goes out to all who reviewed: **Rotem, mellowgold, Abs05, gymgurl, laurianna, a, Melain, yaba, Jesse, Obiwanfan, me, MissThumper, Childish Whisper, laenamoradadeGAMBIT, Magical Creature, JoJo, Carla-p, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, Forget-Me-Nots and Marigolds, Hikairi, Isis1 **and everyone else.

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She was tired, she was jaded, she was drained. That much she knew when she started to have trouble keeping her eyes open. The wind howled and it sent an ominous shiver down her back. She huddled closer to the figure sitting beside her, resting her head on his shoulder, tentatively at first. But he didn't seem to mind, so she did so anyway. She was so cold.

Almost unconsciously, he put an arm around her shoulders, hoping to warm her. How long they'd been sitting there like that in silence, he would never know. All he knew was that they hadn't said a word in awhile. Which he was fine with actually. It wasn't an awkward silence; he hated those. It was a companionable, comfortable silence. So it didn't matter.

His eyes looked up into the dark sky, trying to make out any twinkling stars out there on the black canvas. None. He cast a quick glance at the girl sitting beside him and wasn't surprised when she had her eyes closed.

Another strong gust blew through the bus stop, sending a whirlwind of dark ashes sweeping up and around their feet. It was then that John realized that it was getting cold, even for him.

"Maybe you should get back to the Mansion, Rogue."

The girl opened her eyes slowly. Get back to the Institute? To _them_?

"What if I don't want to?"

John shook his head. "_I _want you to."

She stared at him. _This_ coming from _John_? No way.

"Look, I don't want you to become somebody like me: a nobody. So please go back."

"That was the last bus."

Rogue didn't know why she was trying to come up with an excuse. Maybe it was because she really didn't want to go back. Maybe it was because she wanted to stay with him, even if it were for a little while longer. With him, she didn't feel so alone; didn't feel like an outcast. She didn't want that feeling to leave her so soon.

John shook his head.

"That was the last bus," Rogue said again, this time he could hear the stubbornness in her voice.

"I'll walk you back."

Rogue was quiet. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay with him forever, she knew she had to return to the Institute no matter how much she wanted to stay away from it. But she also knew that once John dropped her off at the front gates of the building that he had left so long ago, it would be the last time she would ever set eyes on him.

Silently, she wondered whether he would agree to come back with her to rejoin the school if she asked. But she dismissed the thought almost immediately. Just because he didn't have anything against her didn't mean he was apologetic about leaving the X-Men and joining the Brotherhood. If anything, Rogue was pretty sure he wasn't about to repent for what he had done back then. And that was because he still believed that what he fought for with the Brotherhood was right. And that was the way it was with him.

John poked her in the shoulder. "Hello? You there?"

"Yes," Rogue said softly.

"Good. I was starting to think that maybe you froze to death. Even _I'm_ starting to feel the damned cold."

Pause.

He eyed her with a sigh, "C'mon, I said I'd walk you there."

"Fine," she stood, "Let's go."

---

_-A/N-: I have decided to make this fic multi-chaptered due to all the high praise it's been receiving so far._


	3. III: Unresolved

_-A/N-: Initially, I always intended 'Strangers' to be a one-shot. However, because Rogue and Pyro make such an interesting couple, it should only be fair that there be more Ryro fics out there. So... I decided to do another chapter. Needless to say, this one's going to affect **everything** and **nothing**. You'll see what I mean._

Once again, many thanks to my reviewers: **El Buritto, tasha, ****PyScHoThErApY17** **the sillylittlepanda, Xaris Fishie, yaba, Psych0gurl0, Stranded, mea-kh, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, andie sky, Aireyail **and anyone else I've missed.

---

The long walk back was an enjoyable one to say the least. Spending time with another person who felt equally as cast out and equally as lonesome was oddly… calming. Not that she knew how to explain this feeling of tranquility she was feeling. She felt as if she was finally being accepted by the one person whom she _least_ expected. And that _one person_ was someone she had secretly been wishing to be accepted _by_.

The dark sky above looked to spread through to eternity, a veil of inky blackness. The little dots of bright jewels that were stars had finally come out of hiding and seemed to almost joyously twinkle down at the two lone figures walking along the dimly lit street.

They seemed undaunted by the fact that someone might jump out at any minute and mug them on the spot, seeing as they were walking along a fairly deserted road after sunset. They were both pretty certain that if anyone tried such a stunt, they would literally find themselves burnt to a crisp. And that was not a slight exaggeration either.

At first, their conversation seemed to be filled with the usual banter they had always shared back when they used to be friends. It was as if they had never once had a falling-out; as if he had never left the Institute, never left their circle of friends.

But as much as Rogue wanted to talk about those treasured reminiscences consisting of past events mainly concerning the three of them – him, her and Bobby – she didn't mention anything even remotely close to the subject. She really wanted to talk about the good times they had in the past, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Maybe it was because deep inside her, she knew that such happy memories would never come to life ever again. Because they just won't.

Because things change.

_They always do._

Rogue knew, as she glanced up at John's impassive face as they continued their slow walk back to the school, that her companion wanted to talk about those fond memories as much as she did. They were on the tip of his tongue and she knew that. But they didn't come. There was no '_Hey, remember when we used to egg the house next door late at night?' _or '_Remember the time we set fire to the zoo last year and got into a hell load of trouble?' _No. There was none of that. As much as they wanted to, they couldn't bring themselves to talk about it.

Instead, they talked about trivial matters. Not that it wasn't what she wanted. They talked about things ranging from Rogue's current favourite rock band to how well John's new hair colour suited him and what the deal was with his lighter.

"I still keep it," he told her languidly whilst toying with the igniter on his wrist, "In fact, it never wanders far. That zippo's always with me, no matter _what_ replaces it. It's like…" he struggled to find some way to explain himself, "like a part of me I guess."

Rogue smiled softly, keeping her eyes trained on the pavement in front of her. She recalled the days when John had carried that thing everywhere, flicking it unconsciously as though his life would end if he didn't. A lot like when a person breathes. An unconscious act, but an act that would determine whether you lived or cease to exist.

"I guess we're different now huh?" Rogue said after awhile.

John cast a side-glance at the girl beside him. "Different?"

"You know," Pause. "I'm not a mutant anymore," she said ruefully, throwing her head back to stare up at the night sky.

He almost wanted to tell her off right then and there, saying that she shouldn't have taken the bloody Cure in the first place. But John could hear that her voice was heavy with regret, and if anything, he was certain that she was looking up into the stars merely to fight back tears.

"We're not that different," he muttered, nudging her in the arm, not knowing how else to comfort her. "I mean, we're _here_ aren't we?"

Rogue understood what he was trying to say and appreciated him for saying it. They were _there_. Together. Both feeling as though the world despised them, feeling as though they weren't accepted by anyone, feeling as though they had no one. Other than themselves. They weren't that different after all.

For the rest of the journey, they evaded issues regarding mutants and the Cure. They seemed to know what not to say and what _to _say in that moment.

Therefore, as the familiar mansion finally came into view, Rogue felt a strong pang of dismay. _This is all happening too soon, _she thought to herself. Everything that happened since their meeting at the bus stop seemed like a blur to her now. She wanted to hang onto John for as long as she could, and that time was coming to an end all too soon.

From afar, they could see that the school was brightly lit, as though every room in the building had its lights on. It stood out in stark contrast against the darkness of the night.

"There," she said, voice low, pointing out the school in front of them as though John didn't realise it was there, "The place we first met," she added.

John was quiet. He never thought he would set eyes on the mansion ever again after turning his back on the X-Men all those months ago. It was a place he had left with no intention of ever returning. Thus, looking at it now brought back conflicted thoughts and feelings - unresolved memories and emotions.

The mansion grew closer with every step and Rogue felt almost surreal as they finally stopped outside the front gates of the Institute. "They're probably having dinner right about now…" she said emptily, grasping at things to say. Something. _Anything._

That wasn't just some random comment. She knew what she was doing. She was stalling for time. She didn't want to bid John farewell just yet.

"Yeah. Dinner." John nodded, his voice much more quiet than usual, "Well, go on. They're probably all waiting for you."

Rogue wanted to shake her head. She did. She wanted so much to tell him, to explain to him, to _scream _at him that it didn't have to end this way and would he _please_ come back. But she didn't. She respected him. She knew him better than that. And that was all the reason she needed. She didn't want him to do something against his will. She didn't want him to do something just because of _her._

"I guess this means goodbye," Rogue said softly, biting her bottom lip, refusing to say the word '_again'_.

"Yeah. It does."

The silence that followed was long and awkward. Rogue was staring helplessly at the ground, torn. It was all John could take.

He covered the distance between them in one stride and Rogue found herself staring into his eyes, their faces just inches apart. At first, she wanted to protest, but try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

"I never wanted it to end this way," he murmured. Their lips were almost touching and Rogue could feel the hair on her back of her neck rising as the heat from his breath washed over her.

She was mesmerized by those deep, brown eyes that looked into her very soul with sorrow. And determination. It felt as though she were drowning in the depths of those dark pools as they inched closer and closer with each passing second. But time seemed to stand still.

Until the blinding lights of the front gates were flicked on and a shrill voice broke them apart, shattering the frozen moment.

"Rogue! Is that you?"

Almost pushing John away, Rogue spun around at the sound of the familiar voice and caught sight of two dark figures racing towards her from the other side of the gates. As they neared, sure enough, the individual in the lead was indeed Bobby, who was followed closely by Logan. _No. Not now!_

She turned swiftly back to John, not knowing what to say. But he was already gone.

The gates were finally opened and Bobby and Logan, both looking relieved, were by her side almost immediately.

"I _knew_ I heard something out here," the older man said gruffly, looking almost inquisitively at the girl before him. He was giving her an odd look, as though trying to read her expressions. But her mind, at the moment, was nothing but blank.

Bobby was the first to start with the questions.

"Rogue! Where the hell have you been? We… we've been so worried about you!"

Rogue smiled coldly at Bobby's comment. _We… we've been so worried about you. 'We'. _There was no '_I'_. Just '_we'._

"I'm fine. You all didn't need to have worried about me," was all she said. And as soon as those words were out of her mouth, Bobby had nodded and walked back to the mansion, all the while throwing glances of concern back at her. It was as though he didn't know what else to say and decided to leave it as that. He looked genuinely upset, but Rogue didn't care anymore. Things have changed. Things always do.

She was now left in the company of Logan, who looked pityingly at her, as though he _knew_ why she had run away in the first place. And maybe more.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said sadly, "I shouldn't have told him I heard you out here. I didn't realise…" his sentence trailed away into nothingness.

And then Rogue knew that _he_ knew.

Her vision was suddenly blurred with tears as she turned from the man and looked out into the darkness.

"I never wanted it to end this way either," she whispered into night.

---

_-A/N-: All's well that ends well. _

_Alas, it has not ended as of yet…_


	4. IV: Birthday

_-A/N-: Hopefully you'll find this a little more cheerful than the previous chapter._

Handing out cookies to the following: **Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, BitterSweet Amusement, andie sky, Fallen Heart, lonley weeper, we-r-the-cure, preciousbabyblue, mea-kh, Forget-Me-Nots and Marigolds, Xaris Fishie, pat-nosferatu, tanza, yaba, swtxassxaznxgurl, Liz Wyatt.**

---

She had been gazing blankly at the clock on her bedside table for quite awhile through the darkness. It was as though she was mesmerized by the glowing numbers that reflected into her eyes. But in truth, her mind was elsewhere, a whirl of colours, faces and scenes of the past.

She blinked when those luminous, green numbers changed. It was finally twelve in the morning.

Inhaling deeply, she paused for a moment, as though waiting for something to happen. Nothing. She frowned deeply. _I don't feel any different. _She didn't know why she was expecting a change. _Oh what the hell. _

With a resolute sigh, she tossed her warm bed covers aside and got out of bed, sauntering over to her lone bedroom window.

Throwing it open, she took in a deep breath of cold, crisp air. The bright, silver moon was clearly seen in the night sky as it bathed the girl in soft, pale light, boldly illuminating the snow-white lock of hair that stood out starkly from the rest.

For days now, she'd had trouble falling asleep. And every night she would follow this senseless ritual, turning to her open window for inner peace, bathing herself in the moon's glow and attempting to clear her mind of unwanted thoughts. As though it were the answer to her miserable, sleepless nights.

But all the time she would have this inner-conflict, an inner-battle with herself, as though pushing away unwelcome memories only brought more to her mind.

Eyes sweeping the moonlit gardens below, Rogue, for a fleeting instant, contemplated sneaking out of the compound yet again- this time, before anyone woke up and had the chance to stop her. She wondered whether she would, if she did, chance upon meeting up with _him_ again.

Her thoughts flashed back to that recent encounter she had at that particular bus stop. Had it already been over a week ago? Rogue wasn't quite sure. Hell, every night the thoughts of their 'reunion' came back to haunt her. She would sometimes end up in tears for reasons unknown to her. As the scenes involving him and her replayed themselves over and over again in her head, she would oftentimes be left feeling rueful, angry and most of all, upset.

Were she to fall asleep now, she knew what her dreams would paint in her mind.

_Him_.

And the simple things that he did to make her feel what she was feeling right now. _The burning of the photograph, the simple hug they shared, the long walk in his company… his dark, brown eyes… _

_…Him_.

After a long moment, she pulled the window shut and crawled back under the covers of her bed. _It's going to be one hell of a long day once the sun rises,_ she told herself as she looked at her clock with unfocused eyes.

_12:50 a.m_.

_Well, I still don't feel any different…_

Shutting her eyes tight, she tried to drift to sleep, knowing full well of the dreams that awaited her… Dreams of the one person she knew she would never be able to be with.

---

_Bang, bang, bang! _

"Rogue! Do you know what time it is? It's past _noon_! Get up! Like, now!"

She opened one bleary eye and shut it almost immediately as the glaring afternoon sunlight filtered through her windows and blinded her.

_Shit. Overslept._

She realized that she'd been doing that quite a lot these few days due to sleepless nights.

The sound of loud banging at your door while you were deep in sleep was not a pleasant thing to wake up to, as Rogue so unfortunately realized.

She tried to resist the urge to shout a loud 'go away!' at the inconsiderate idiot who thought it would be nice to disturb her from her fitful sleep.

"Rogue! Hello? Did you die in your sleep or something?"

She recognized that voice.

_Damn that Jubilee…_

Slowly, her mind was waking up but all the while, all she wanted to do was to just go back to sleep, till dinnertime if she needed. But the person outside got all the more impatient and if she stalled any longer, she was sure Jubilee would break her door down.

"What do you want? If it's not important, go away," Rogue snapped finally, trying not to sound too hostile but failing terribly.

There was a pause from the other side of the door and for a second, Rogue thought she had been successful in getting the message across that she didn't want to be disturbed. And then…

"Everyone's been waiting for you to get up! Just thought I'd, you know, be the first to wish you happy birthday. It _is_ your birthday today you know? And yeah, to give you your present…" There was a pause, "I'm sorry. I could always… I'll come back later…" The girl outside sounded almost hurt by Rogue's outburst.

All Rogue could hear then was the reverberating footsteps of Jubilee walking down the hallway. She almost wanted to shout out an apology and get her to come back, but she didn't. She was too preoccupied by the fact that there were people who actually _remembered_ what day it was. She paused at the thought. Maybe someone had told everyone about it. _Bloody hell._ Her eyes narrowed.

After a hasty trip to the bathroom, putting on something casual and having a brief look at herself in the mirror, Rogue yanked open her bedroom door and made her way to the kitchens.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and she encountered no one on the way there. Which wasn't odd. After all, who would be staying indoors on a weekend with such perfect weather outside?

As she entered the mansion kitchens, the first thing she noticed was the fact that there were two people in there, idly chitchatting away. The blue guy and the guy with wings. She knew both of them, but she never really had much of a chance to get to know them. Just a couple of conversations and that was about it.

"Ah, the birthday girl!" the blue guy said grandly, ambling up to Rogue.

She could only nod mutely as Henry McCoy shook her hand cheerfully and gave her a huge, friendly hug. _No way in hell would these people have known without someone telling them._

"Um… Thanks, Dr. McCoy," she said after the Beast let go.

"Hank," he corrected her, his eyes twinkling, "just Hank."

"Hank," Rogue echoed with a nod and a smile before turning to Warren, who had followed behind Henry.

Warren was a little more discrete in wishing her a happy birthday, being the reserved man he was. He shook her hand politely with a small, almost shy, smile.

"I don't suppose either of you would actually tell me who made it all public?" she asked the two while making herself a cup of black coffee.

Warren shrugged, looking seemingly uncomfortable. As though it were all meant to be kept a secret. But Henry just laughed.

"I would tell you, Rogue. I really would. But I think the question should best be left unanswered. I doubt the boy would be very happy with me if I told you."

Rogue could only stare blankly at the blue beast. _Boy? _

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Henry said after a moment, making his way towards the door, "I've got some business to attend to… and before you start prying for more information, or names," he added slyly, "I'll be off."

And before they knew it, he had disappeared around the corner.

Only to reappear again to say, "Oh and Rogue, Ororo told me there's going to be a little, ah, cake-cutting celebration after dinner tonight held in honour of your birthday. Thought you might like to know."

And he was gone again.

"Is he being serious?" Rogue said finally, turning to Warren.

"Yeah, and everyone knows. It's been going around."

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Don't look at me," the Angel said defensively, "I didn't plan this."

-

Night fell and as soon as dinner was over, Ororo had called everyone into the living room. Rogue was pretty sure everything had been rigged. Set up. Planned from the very beginning. An attempt to lighten her spirits. After all,_ someone_ must have noticed her mood in the past week.

But she wasn't complaining. If anything, she was deeply surprised. But not in a bad way.

The cake-cutting ceremony had been short and loud and full of liveliness. But Rogue couldn't help but feel an odd sense of detachment from it all. The sounds, the laughter and the looks on many of the young mutants' faces. They all seemed to faintly register in her mind as though she were dimly aware of them.

As the knife finally sank into the cake, the room erupted into applause.

"Happy birthday, Rogue," Ororo said loudly with a broad smile.

Rogue smiled back feebly, not knowing what else to say. What _was_ there to say? It was at least the hundredth time someone wished her a happy birthday and all she could do was say 'thank you'…

Everyone had a piece of the huge cake. Well, almost everyone. Rogue refused at first, but Logan had forced her to have some, saying that it was only customary for the _birthday_ girl to at least have _some_ of the _birthday_ cake.

After the festivity died down, Ororo had chased most of the young mutants to bed, reminding them that the very next day was indeed a Monday and that school resumes as per normal. Thus, the room cleared out without delay, albeit with a lot of them grumbling audibly.

"I've kinda' wished you before but umm… happy birthday, Rogue," one of the young mutants said quietly as she passed her on the way out.

Rogue looked at the young girl and forced a smile. "Thanks Siryn… Goodnight."

The girl smiled back shyly.

Moments passed and the only people left in the room now were herself, Logan, Ororo, Bobby, Kitty, Jubilee, Peter, Hank McCoy and Warren. The room seemed so much quieter than it was. Too quiet. Rogue grew restless.

"Um… So if you guys don't mind, I'll be off to bed now…?" Rogue said uncertainly, looking to Ororo.

The weather manipulator gave Rogue an amused smile. "We didn't get those children to leave for nothing you know?"

"Yeah, guess what?" Jubilee was grinning and excitement was building in her voice, "We've all got presents to give you!"

Rogue was tempted to laugh. _A little gift-unwrapping session, huh? Should've guessed. _

"Great! I actually have _presents_!" Rogue said, feigning enthusiasm. Somehow, she felt there was a hidden note of sarcasm in her voice. And she had no idea why.

"Here! Open mine first!" Jubilee exclaimed, shoving a brightly-wrapped box into her hands. It was no bigger than her palm.

Logan snorted at Jubilee's zest and zeal.

Glancing at the bubbly girl skeptically, Rogue ripped the wrappings from the box and opened it.

"Oh. Wow. A box of nail polish."

Rogue was close to speechless.

And she was pretty sure that her speechlessness wasn't because she was blown away by the gift.

But Jubilee didn't seem to know the difference and she beamed at Rogue's stunned expression.

"Thanks, Jubes. It's," Pause. "Uh… great!" _Not really. _

"I knew you'd like it!"

Rogue smiled wanly at the pyrotechnic projector. _Riiight. _

Logan approached her next, looking quite abashed as he passed her an untidily wrapped parcel, characteristic of the Wolverine.

"Just a little something for you, kid. Happy birthday."

Rogue took the parcel out of his hands and slowly unwrapped it. It turned out to be a huge scented candle.

"Oh wow. You got me something that could very well potentially burn this mansion to the ground."

Logan gave a short laugh, catching the humour in her voice. "Yeah, well, if that's what you want…" he said suggestively, grinning.

Rogue smiled. "And it's pink," she noted, turning the clump of wax about in her hand.

"I would've got you a black one. Only, they didn't have any."

Rogue could tell he was joking and laughed softly, going up to the man and giving him a hug.

"Thanks, Logan."

"No problem, kid."

Ororo gave her a beautiful silver necklace with a lightning bolt as a pendant. Henry McCoy got her a cool music CD. Warren, a box of chocolates.

Bobby gave her a present too; a carefully wrapped box full of different-sized photographs of themselves when they had been more than friends. There was no birthday kiss from him however; nor any birthday hugs. She pulled a picture out at random and gazed at it. It jumped out at Rogue, as though that very memory was being replayed in her mind. Bobby had his arm draped over her and they were both laughing, looking so very carefree and happy. But there was something else. Someone else. _He_ was standing to the far left, almost cut off from the photograph entirely. It clearly looked as though he felt left out. Abandoned. A third wheel.

She threw the photograph back into the box.

Bobby was eyeing her intently with those worryful eyes of his, as though analyzing her expressions. She wondered whether he had given her all those pictures because he couldn't bare to keep them anymore. Fixing a rueful smile on her face, she set the box down beside her and thanked Bobby all the same.

Before he could even mutter a 'you're welcome', she had moved on to Peter's gift. He got her a…

"… A hairdryer?" Rogue said in disbelief, staring at the huge man.

"Hey," he protested, "I have no idea what to get girls for their birthdays. Don't blame me!"

Kitty giggled at that before taking out a present of her own.

"Here, Rogue, I've got one for you too," she said quietly, handing her a neatly wrapped package.

Rogue's eyes flitted briefly to Bobby before unwrapping the gift.

She was speechless at what lay before her.

She wasn't at all good at thank yous and she felt she really needed to thank the girl. But all she managed was a soft 'oh gosh…'

Kitty smiled knowingly.

"I know how much you love leather."

Rogue nodded mutely as she slipped both the leather gloves on. They fit perfectly. She knew she didn't have a need to wear them anymore, in fact she used to hate to wear them when she was forced to (so as not to kill people of course). But since the suppression of her mutant ability, she felt a certain fondness for them.

"Kitty…" Rogue started.

"No need to thank me," the girl said, smiling, "Bobby suggested it."

For a second, all Rogue could do was stare blankly at her. Now this revelation had changed things. Bobby had _suggested_ it? So what now? Should she be _thankful_ for that? Or should she feel cheated that Kitty had given something to her on behalf of Bobby? In truth, Rogue felt ready to rip off the gloves and throw them in his face. _So now they go around thinking of what to get people for birthdays together? What the hell? _

She shook her head and plastered a smile onto her face. "Yeah, well, thanks then. To you both." Her voice sounded hollow and vacant.

And that was the last one.

Faking a yawn, Rogue gathered her gifts, and with her last show of gratitude, excused herself from the living room, saying she was tried.

"You guys have been great. Seriously," she said over her shoulder as she stumbled out of the living room, arms full of stuff.

"Sure you don't need help with those?"

"No, thanks Jubes. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"I said I'm _fine_."

The room fell silent.

Rogue hurried out.

When she was finally in the privacy of her bedroom, Rogue dumped her items on her bed. And then, as an after thought, placed each of them neatly in a row on her shelf. The nail polish, the box of chocolates, the silver necklace, the hairdryer, the music CD, the box of photographs… She placed the scented candle on her bedside table next to her alarm clock.

_9:45 p.m. _

Realizing she still had the leather gloves on, she took them off and carelessly tossed them onto her desk. And then, she flung herself onto her bed, sighing wearily.

It wasn't as though she didn't enjoy her day. In fact, she was quite content. Why wouldn't she be? It was her_ birthday_. So why did she feel so lonely throughout the ordeal? Why did she feel so empty right now? Like a part of her was missing?

Sliding off her bed, she wandered over to her window once again like she did every night. She threw it open, greeting the rush of cold air.

She was genuinely surprised when she found a tiny parcel perched on her windowsill, very immaculately wrapped in brown paper. _Who…? _

Rogue reached out to grab the package. It was small and light. And there was a small message tagged onto the parcel. Her breath caught as she read it.

_'thought i'd forget?' _

And she read it again, gripping the small object tight.

Her fingers trembled as they slid along the parcel's length. Finally, as though mustering enough courage, she unwrapped it.

There, in her palm, sat John's silver chrome lighter. The one he had carried with him all the time, forever snapping it open and closed.

His voice came back to her, echoing in her head.

_'That zippo's always with me, no matter what replaces it. It's like…' _

"Like a part of him," Rogue whispered to herself, remembering.

She lit it nimbly and stared into the flames for a long while.

Silent tears, illuminated by the glow of the fire, slid down her cheeks. But she was smiling.

-

That night, she slept with ease as the metallic zippo sat on her bedside table. Between her and the glowing numbers of her clock.

---

_-A/N-: Say it with me! 'Awwww…' _

_This particular chapter focused on Rogue (if you didn't notice). The next one focuses on our fire-crazy mutant. This fic's almost done. _

_Just curious, do you guys prefer a happy ending or a sad one? Or a sad but happy ending?_


	5. V: Indecisive

_-A/N-: Some of you may find this just a little morbid. Ah well, that's St. John for you._

_Milk and cookies to be given out to these special people:_** Detroit, ****jade598, tanza, ****Mrs. St. John Allerdyce****, justareader, Jawless Harry, sd freek, mea-kh, Emo Elmo xxx, sukati, Dingbat142001, ruckfules, mandy2412, Xaris Fishie, FelineFire, BitterSweet Amusement, wolfiebe, Hikairi, Obiwanfan, Stranded, pat-nosferatu, the sillylittlepanda, Rotem, ****PyScHoThErApY17, ****Red-Ice Blue-Fire****, faith, yaba, agenttmk, ****Erik's Secret Admirer, ****Chica De Los Ojos Cafe****, Alex, Jesse, andie sky…**

_And_ _a huge apology to _**we-r-the-cure**_ for spelling your penname wrong! I didn't realise! I'll give you an extra basket of cookies to say sorry! And I've corrected it now, so don't worry!_

---

John Allerdyce slammed the door shut and in one fluid motion, spun on his heel and collapsed on his untidy makeshift bed. Staring up at the ceiling of the abandoned, one-room apartment ceiling, he felt at that very moment as if the whole world - the whole _universe -_ despised him and his very existence.

Almost unthinkingly, he grabbed the cigarette pack so conveniently placed on his bedside table, took one from the many and deftly lit it with his wrist igniter, noting with vague consciousness that he no longer had his zippo. The one which he carried around with him so faithfully.

He never used to do it, smoking. No, good ol' Johnny never thought twice about it in the past, after all, he always made it known that it was _he_ who controlled the flames and not have the flames control _him_.

He used to think it was a repulsively stupid habit; one that slowly killed people from the inside, one that caused much anguish and pain as time slowly crawled by. Sure, he had tried it once, twice, when he was young. When he fell in with the bad crowd just after his parents threw him out of the house.

He didn't like it, smoking. Never did. And he was more than happy to quit when he was taken in by Xavier. More than happy to quit while he was ahead. It was his choice – a decision that he himself decided to make.

But things have changed.

He took several long puffs, before exhaling the odorous smoke, smiling a twisted smile when he felt its calming effects take over.

_Ironic,_ he thought. He was being calmed and sedated by something that he could feel was actually killing him. _My anti-drug._

He was impassive as he took another long drag, idly watching the smoke drift past his face, deep in thought.

No one knew of course. No one knew about his past, and John took pains to cover up certain facts and details that he deemed unpleasant and unworthy to share. He himself had thought he was once part of a loving family. Until his mutant powers surfaced and terrorized his parents to an extent that he was exiled from his very home.

Since then, he had held an unrisen distrust towards the human race. That very event that happened was one of the many turning points in his life. With his trust breached by the people he thought had cared for him, he never believed in the faith of other people anymore. He wanted independence without having to rely on others. It was the one thing he longed for.

When he was taken in by the Institute, his first few weeks had been a nightmare. But he had made friends. _Good friends._ And eventually, he learnt to trust again.

For a little while.

John snorted, staring at the ashes that were falling off the tip of the cigarette. _For a little while._

And then the day came when he got what he wanted. Or what he thought he wanted. His freedom, his independence… The feel of using his powers without being held back. He found _that_ the day stepped onto that helicopter at Alkali Lake. The day he joined the Brotherhood.

_The day that **I** did the betraying of trust,_ the boy thought sardonically, _the day 'John' left and 'Pyro' took over._

It was his choice. His _decision_. And from then on, he only had Magneto and Mystique to rely on. But even then, deep within himself, he knew he never truly trusted them. Not anyone. He was loyal of course, and rightly so. But trust was a different thing altogether. The Brotherhood – he felt that he knew no one, felt detached from everyone. He didn't know Magneto or Mystique as much as he knew the people back at the mansion. Even after Dr Grey appeared. Admittedly, he was surprised, but he kept his distance from her. She wasn't the same. She wasn't herself. She was neither with the X-Men nor the Brotherhood.

He knew no one. But he got by.

John took another puff, lazily lighting and relighting his wrist igniter. Magneto had given it to him to replace his lighter. John had refused at first. But the old man had insisted, saying firepower was everything and that he would be nothing once the stupid lighter were out of his grasp.

But John's attachment to his zippo made it hard to let go. And so he kept it.

It wasn't in his possession anymore however.

It was hard to part with, but he knew it was in good hands now. In the hands of the one person that he felt he could genuinely trust. The _only_ person he knew he could genuinely trust.

His thoughts lingered on the girl who plagued his thoughts and dreams every now and then. The memory of the day she absorbed his memories and emotions and drained his lifeforce would always come back to him like a stark reminder. It hurt him on the inside so much more than it hurt on the outside.

Gravely, he recalled the day he lit Bobby's front yard on fire and trashed all those cop cars. It was the day he fell from grace – another turning point in his life.

Taking his last drag, he stubbed out the smoldering cigarette. Smoking was a dangerous habit. He knew it. If he were to tell you why he did it, he wouldn't have been able to explain it. The day Rogue touched him, the day she weakened him. _Drained_ him of his powers…

He needed to feel that again. To endure that again. To experience it again.

Because he wanted to.

He felt he needed to.

Her touch was poison, that much he knew. It killed him slowly, it tortured him. But it comforted him. He wanted to feel that again.

And then she took the Cure.

She took the bloody Cure.

Bitterly, John threw the cigarette stub towards the lone bin in his room. It missed. He sighed heavily.

It was _her_ choice and he knew it. It was her _decision_.

He averted his train of thought._ Not today. _He didn't want to mull over something that he constantly thought about every waking hour of the day.

_Wonder how the birthday went, _he thought instead, reaching for the remote control of the old, battered television that stood in front of his bed. He wondered whether he would have been celebrating by her side if he hadn't left the X-Men.

Leaving the Institute… he realized now that he had made a huge mistake.

The television flickered and a newscaster came on screen.

"… _from all over the state, sources claiming that the mutant cure is deemed to be only temporary. Nobody knows how or why…"_

John stood.

He had a decision to make. It was now…

Or never.

-

The lone packet of cigarettes went sailing into the bin just as John cleared up his neglected room.

After so many days of contemplation, he finally made his choice…

He left the apartment without so much as a backward glance, his duffel bag hanging from his shoulders.

---

_-A/N-: One more chapter to go. HAPPY ENDING IT IS!_

_Pyro-crazy fans are more than welcome to visit my work desk website (link's on my profile page)where I put up short writing pieces, artistic doodles and random bits of info on my fanfics._


	6. Finale: Closure

_The finale. _

---

Clink. Snap. Clink. Snap.

She was doing it again, flicking it open and closed like an undying habit waiting to be ceased. Ever so often she would light it and snuff it out, only to relight it once more. It was a trait that lived within her like a disease. And she knew why.

Because they were back. Her dreaded powers. They were all back. And she found out a few days before it was even announced.

The Cure wasn't permanent.

And now, she felt everyone inside of her more than ever once again. Once again. Logan, Erik, Bobby… John. So much stronger than before. They were all in her head.

She told no one about it. She told no one that she was Rogue again. Only because she wanted to be _Marie_. She wanted it to stay that way. To stay as _Marie_.

Or did she?

She didn't know.

She didn't care. At least not anymore.

She had been in the same room as they were. And when the news finally broke, they had all turned to stare at her. _All_ of them. And she fought back tears of scorn, fingers tightly gripping the pocketed lighter for comfort and strength. She fought back the impulse to snap at them to stop looking at her - with pity, with concern, with what had they. Because it wasn't like her to snap at people.

It was someone else entirely.

Rogue smirked, feeling fragments of John within her as she lit the lighter before her for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Everyone in the mansion was now stepping around her like she was unstable and insecure. Or maybe she just felt that way – paranoid. Maybe it was all her. After tasting what it was like to finally be free of her powers, getting them back was something she had to get used to again.

_"We're not gonna' be treating you any different, Rogue." _

She snorted as Bobby's quiet words came back to her. _Yeah right. _Bobby Drake had been treating her '_different_' since he and Kitty started getting close.

Cure or no cure, she felt cheated… manipulated, exploited… by the very people whom she lived with in that very mansion she had no choice but to call '_home'_.

There was no _'I'm sorry, Rogue. This isn't working,'_ neither was there any indication that they weren't together anymore. But it was obvious. It was so bloody obvious that it was all over. A silent but firm affirmation between them both.

Cure or no cure, everything remained the same.

Even if Bobby still loved her a little – and she was sure he still _did_ and was glad for that – she didn't think she could handle it. Not again. Not ever. To relive such a relationship all over again would be too painful. Too agonizing.

She wasn't sure if he was who she wanted anymore.

Getting off her bed, Rogue pocketed John's zippo and left the sanctuary of her room, pausing only to slip on her leather gloves that were given to her by Kitty. Not that she was planning on touching anyone, no. But she felt more secure that way. It was her way of life now. And she was going to _live_ it. She wasn't going to run anymore.

The hallway was deserted. But she didn't mind.

They were all in her head. The memories, thoughts, emotions – all plaguing her own. When she felt them rush back to her, she knew that the Cure was fading. When she felt the anti-mutagen drain from the blood in her veins, her mind screamed release. And those memories that weren't hers intensified.

She made her way wearily to the living room where she found Bobby, Kitty, Jubilee, Warren and Jimmy. All had their eyes glued to the television screen. Well, almost all of them. Warren was fast asleep, his head slumped against the armrest of the couch.

She shook her head of the nervousness she felt inside and sat down in one of the lone chairs. Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee all turned to look at her.

"Hey, Rogue," Bobby said, acknowledging her presence with a small smile.

"Hey guys," Rogue replied quietly, returning the smile with a nod. She could feel the slight, almost-unnoticeable tension between them, but she shrugged it off, grateful that he was still being sincere.

"Billie Joe's playing the guitar," Jubilee pointed out as she refocused her attention on the television, "Green Day's the bomb."

Rogue leaned back in her chair, her hand digging around in her pocket for the familiar piece of metal. She began flicking it casually as soon as it was out, just like she had been doing before back in her room, and was slightly amused when she glimpsed Bobby's curious glance as soon as he heard the very first metallic clink.

No one had really asked her about the lighter and she was fine with that. The only time she was asked about it was when Bobby had first spotted her with it.

_"Where'd you get that?" he had asked her silently. She wasn't sure if there was suspicion in his voice. She doubted there was. And she had only shrugged and replied nonchalantly that she 'found it'. _

Bobby never questioned her after that. She reasoned that he probably thought it was because of the return of her mutation. Probably some side effect that caused her to want to have control over a flame. She _had_ touched John after all.

He wasn't wrong. But he wasn't right either.

As annoying as it was, no one told her to cut it out. Partly because Green Day was drowning out the clicks and clacks of the lighter and partly because they knew that if they told her off, she wasn't going to listen.

She lit it again and stared into the flames as though it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

She tried it once, a couple of days ago when she felt her powers return. She tried it.

Tried to see if she still had it in her – John's ability to manipulate the flames.

It was a foolish thought; thinking she was able to cause the fire to do something at her will. Something. Anything.

And she was surprised when she did. The flames had flared up involuntarily and had died down nearly as quick. That was all that had happened. But it was enough to surprise her. Enough to surprise _and_ scare her.

But at the same time, she was pleased.

As she sat in that very living room, her eyes flickered to the young, quiet boy in the corner. She'd talked to him once. They called him Jimmy. Or Leech. She learnt that he was the source of the Cure. Not that she had anything against him. When they had that one conversation, a small friendship formed between them. He was young and she knew he was going to grow up to be a remarkable mutant one day.

Nothing remotely interesting had been happening at the mansion apart from the fact that Storm had left in quite a hurry after receiving a call from a Doctor Moira Mac-something. And also, an increasing number of mutants were seeking refuge at the school each day as the final effects of the Cure dwindled away into nothingness. In fact, just the day before, the Institute was approached by two such mutants; one kid with unruly, silver hair – a Pietro Maximoff or something, and a young girl – Risty Wilde, whom Rogue felt strangely unnerving.

She snapped the lighter shut just as the doorbell rang. _Great. More mutants. Just great. _

No one bothered to get it. Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee looked too relaxed where they were. Warren was still fast asleep at the couch and Jimmy was looking expectantly at Rogue, who only continued staring blankly into space and toying with the zippo.

It rang a second time, which brought Logan running from the kitchen looking extremely annoyed. He skidded to a halt at the living room and glared at all of them.

"You lazy asses gonna' get that?" he growled angrily at Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee.

All three shook their heads. The older man rounded on Rogue. She merely shrugged and continued to snap open the lighter.

It rang again. A third time.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Logan yelled, making his way to the front door. "Bloody kids…" he muttered, yanking the door open.

The person who stood outside nearly made his jaw drop. Nearly. His anger seemed to dissipate and for a split second, Logan could only stare in stupefaction at the boy before him.

_Well, well. Look who came crawling back. _

Snapping out of his perplexity, he had the sudden momentous urge to draw his adamantium claws out. Scare the kid a little.

But something held him back. Maybe it was something about the look on the kid's face. Nevertheless, Logan plastered an evident frown on his face.

"Pizza delivery?" he asked gruffly, quirking an eyebrow.

John Allerdyce blinked.

Deep within, he was relieved that the Wolverine hadn't already sliced and diced him up at the sight of a traitor. He knew there was unmistakable humour hidden in that harsh voice. But he didn't laugh. He knew what Logan could do. He had to be cautious. He had to conceal his fear, nervousness, _defiance_.

For a split second, Logan could have sworn he saw bright flames in the boy's hardened eyes and wondered if it was John or Pyro he was talking to.

"I've come to rejoin the X-Men," came John's firm, unwavering voice.

From somewhere within the house, they both heard something crash to the ground. And before John knew what happened, he found himself being embraced tightly, a lock of soft, silver-white hair brushing against his cheek.

"You came back," Rogue whispered in his ear, thick and muffled. "You came back."

John returned the hug.

"I never truly left."

Bobby and Kitty were by the door in an instant and all they could do, along with Logan, was stare; the older man with an amused smile, Bobby with disbelief and Kitty in confusion.

"Oh my god," Jubilee said loudly as she rounded the corner from the living room and spotted John in the doorway, "I remember you! You stole my box of fireworks a couple of years ago!"

The two broke apart and John stared at the indignant girl before grinning. "Hey, Jubes. Long time no see."

Rogue smiled to herself as John silently intertwined his fingers tightly with her gloved ones.

_Looks like it will all be just fine now. _

_Things may have changed… _

_- _

_But not everything. _

---

_**-A/N-:** That's it! The end. For this season anyway. The sequel's on its way._

_ANYWAY, I would really like to thank all my uber awesome supporters out there. Without you guys, I would never have finished this thing. Constructive reviews are much appreciated. I love long, constructive reviews. They make my day. Tell me why you loved it or hated it or whatever, because that's what reviews are **for**. Anyway, I've had loads of fun writing this. I hope you guys liked it too! THANK YOU, VIEWERS! Remember: ROGUE/PYRO IS FOREVER. _

_**Note:** Remember to stick around after the credits! (Hint, hint) _

_**CREDITS:**_

_**Cast of Characters:  
(According to appearance)** _

_Marie D'Ancanto / Rogue _

_John Allerdyce / Pyro _

_Bobby Drake / Iceman _

_Logan / Wolverine _

_Jubilation Lee / Jubilee _

_Henry "Hank" McCoy / Beast _

_Warren Worthington III / Angel _

_Ororo Munroe / Storm _

_Theresa Rourke Cassidy / Siryn _

_Piotr Rasputin / Colossus _

_Katherine "Kitty" Pryde / Shadowcat _

_Jimmy / Leech _

**_(Characters mentioned) _**

_Jean Grey / Phoenix _

_Charles Xavier / Professor X _

_Scott Summers / Cyclops _

_Erik Lensherr / Magneto _

_Raven Darkholme / Mystique _

_Moira MacTaggert _

_Pietro Maximoff / Quicksilver _

_Risty Wilde / '?'_

_**Shout-Outs:** _

**_sukati, BitterSweet Amusement, jade598, Xaris Fishie, Fallen Heart, Dingbat142001, we-r-the-cure, Obiwanfan, 4Rogue, andie sky, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, __PyScHoThErApY17__, Forget-me-nots and Marigolds, the sillylittlepanda, CylentWind, Hikairi and all the others_**_: For being loyally fantastic reviewers. I love you guys so much. _

_**mellowgold**: For being my 100th reviewer. You are awesome. Your support was greatly appreciated. _

_**Marvel Comics:** Duh, For making the X-Men come to life! This fic would not be here if it weren't for them. WORD. _

_**Emilie:** For being my best friend and proofreading most of this fic. Even though you have no idea what the X-Men movies are about. Haha. _

_**Aaron Stanford:** For playing John Allerdyce's character in the movie and being the Pyro we all love. _

_**Anna Paquin: **For playing Rogue. Best choice ever. Yep. _

_**All you READERS and SUPPORTERS out there:** For sticking with me all the way and being supportive. THANKS LOADS! _

**_(End credits)_**

---

---

---

---

_Fade in- _

_"So, you tryin' to steal my girl now, huh?" _

_"Where the hell did you get that idea from? 'Your girl'? You never cared about her in the first place!" _

_-Fade out _

**_Fin._**


	7. VII: The Line Between

_-A/N-: Here begins the official spin-off to 'Stranger' (which I have unofficially titled **'The Line Between'**)._

---

**An Epilogue to Stranger **

and

**A Prologue to The Line Between**

---

"What the hell are you doing back here, Allerdyce?"

There was obvious suspicion and what sounded like _contempt_ in Bobby Drake's voice as those icy blue eyes of his pierced the gaze of the boy standing in the doorway.

John flicked him an amused smile. "Oh, hey Drake. What? No _'hello, how are you?_' I'm deeply disappointed." He knew he shouldn't be pissing people off already, especially since they could just reject him and kick him right out the door and slam it in his face. He took the hint when he felt Rogue's fingers give his hand a small squeeze. A warning to back down.

Bobby's face was contorted in a dark scowl and he had his arms crossed across his chest threateningly, a stance that looked so starkly familiar to both John and Rogue. "Answer the damn question, man." His voice was as hard and cold as his glare and John couldn't help but smirk when he caught Bobby glancing quickly at the two intertwined hands that belonged to him and Rogue.

"Well?" Bobby demanded harshly.

"Bobby…" a small voice said, almost timidly but held a wavering note of audacity.

John's gaze flickered briefly to the girl who spoke as she stepped forward so that she was standing next to the Iceman. _Kitty Pryde_. The pyromaniac laughed inwardly. And then he felt the girl beside him stiffen. John's smirk turned into a frown.

Jubilee stared for a few seconds, "What the hell's going on?"

"Okay, kids. I think we should cool it," a loud growl broke the tension in the air, "You guys can go back to watching that magical box they call television. I think the angel needs company." Logan glared implicatively, "I'll take care of mister hotshot here."

"But-!" Bobby began.

"No buts, _Icecream_. You two obviously have issues. And I don't want a fight on my hands. Why don't you take Kitty and Jubilee and sit your ass back down in that room over there," it was obviously an order and not a question as the man pointed forcefully in the direction of the living room.

"C'mon, Bobby," Kitty said, grabbing Bobby by the arm and pulling him towards the living room. But Bobby wrenched his arm out of Kitty's grip and stood, glaring at Logan.

"I have every right in the world to know what and why that cold-blooded murderer's doing here."

Rogue very much wanted to scream at Bobby and tell him that _he_ was the cold-blooded one. But decided against it. "He's not here to harm us, Bobby," she said, eyes flashing dangerously.

Bobby looked incredulously at Rogue, then at Logan, who looked like he was secretly enjoying all of this, then back at Rogue again.

"What's Pyro doing here, then?" he challenged.

"He's here to rejoin, dolt," John said none too friendly. But he acknowledged the fact that he had called him _Pyro_ for once. Although, he reasoned to himself, that he may not be using his real name anymore out of spite.

"Alright, alright," Logan snapped, "Cut it out you two. We'll settle this when Storm comes back from wherever the hell she-" there was a loud slam of a door from within the mansion and Ororo appeared, seemingly out of breath. "Huh, the Blackbird's more quiet than I thought," the man looked over at the weather manipulator.

"There you are!" she gushed, "Logan! He's alive! He's – Charles is…" she stopped short when she caught sight of John. Her head tilted as if in question. "Did I miss something?"

Logan shook his head, "Chuck's alive, huh? Right, I think we need to talk."

_-_

Dropping his duffel bag on the ground, he drove his fingers through his messy semi-blonde hair once and sat down on one of the conveniently placed benches that were surrounded by green, glistening grass. Blankly, he gazed at the three simple tombstones before him. He barely registered the fact that they were there in front of him, mind too preoccupied with thoughts of his own.

Not that he thought any of the graves would be filled. Maybe Grey's, but the other two, no. Of course now with Charles Xavier not really dead, they would have to do something about his monument.

It's barely been an hour since he stepped foot onto the school grounds and a sense of haunting familiarity had already started overpowering him. He had just been in a meeting with the bigshots of the school in Ororo's office and they interrogated him to no end. He also learned that Xavier was alive and well and would resume his role at the Institute in a couple of days once he was deemed fit enough to do so.

His hand twitched fleetingly and he clenched it into a shaky fist. He no longer had his wrist igniter.

Of course he had expected it.

Expected that they wouldn't have trusted him at first, after all, he was the one who stabbed them in the back. So they took it off him, well, Storm did. She said he'd only get it back once they trusted him enough.

'_Oh, and maybe you should stay away from fire for awhile,'_ she had said oh so nonchalantly.

Stay away from fire? John nearly wanted to laugh in her face for saying something so ludicrous. Taking fire away from him was the one thing that made him feel vulnerable. Weak. Exposed._ Powerless_. Fire made him who he was.

But for now, he'd have to live without it. At least for a little while. And he could do that, couldn't he? _Couldn't he? _John's frown only deepened. Did he make the right choice? Coming back? In all honesty, he didn't want to think about it right now.

A twig snapped somewhere on his right and he heard someone approach him quietly, almost hesitantly. He looked up, snapping out of his reverie. _Rogue_.

"Hey," she said quietly.

John gave her a small, lazy smile. "Hi."

"If you need more time alone I could just…"

John shook his head and trained his eyes on the ground. "Don't. Stay with me. I need the company anyway. It's bad enough when you've got everyone glaring daggers at you everywhere you go."

Rogue took a step forward. "They'll get over it."

"They'd better."

Rogue smiled at the tone of his voice as she looked closely at him. She knew that this was a new turning point - a new _chance_ - for him. For them _both_. _I just hope we don't screw it up like before, _she thought wryly, _we tend to do that a lot._

There was a short, companionable pause between them both. She glanced once at the gravestones and then she finally spoke up, gesturing towards the empty space beside him on the bench "So, can I sit down? Or should I just stand here?"

John looked up. There was a small twinkle in her eyes.

"By all means," he said, grinning.

She walked over and sat on the edge of the bench, deep in immeasurable thought.

John floundered for something to say. It wasn't like the growing silence between them was awkward - he really hated those - but he felt he needed to say something. Anything. He thought he'd had more to say by now. He really did. But it wasn't the case.

"So I'm guessing that you're… you know…" he gestured uncertainly, not quite sure how to phrase his question.

"That I can kill people with my bare hands again?" Rogue supplied, "Yeah."

She kept her voice neutral and there was a wavering smile on her face. But John knew better. He always knew when she was faking a smile, a laugh… He always did.

Catching her eye, he gave her a small nod and decided not to talk about it. Apparently, Rogue had the same idea as well.

"Storm, Logan and I had a chat," she said, biting her bottom lip nervously.

John snorted. "About me I'm guessing?"

Rogue nodded.

The boy beside her leaned back on the bench to look up into the blue sky. "Obviously," he muttered and then turned to look back at Rogue. "So what'd they say?"

A small frown broke out on her face. She remembered every single thing they'd said.

-

"_I don't think we should put those two in the same room. At least not until they warm up to each other."_

"_What? I thought you trusted him, Logan!" Rogue cried out indignantly._

"_Oh, I trust the kid. I trust them both. It's just that it's _them_ who have the trust issues. Not me."_

_Ororo looked wearily at the man. "They used to be good friends, Logan."_

"_Exactly my point. That blazing ball of fire just up and left to join metal-head and his Brotherhood. How'd _you_ feel if your best friend suddenly left you for the Bitch Club?"_

_There was a short pause as Logan glanced at Rogue. "No offence. I know it's much more complex than that. But it amounts to the same thing. You may have regained trust in the kid but I'm pretty sure Iceboy's still pretty pissed that John tried to barbeque him at Alcatraz."_

"_So you're saying we can't put them together in the same room?" Ororo looked tired, "We don't have enough rooms, Logan. You know that. With the number of mutants walking in here every day…" she implored, gesturing helplessly._

"_Okay. Alright," Logan snapped, "but if you find half the mansion in flames by tomorrow morning, don't blame it on me."_

_-_

"You're getting your old room back," Rogue replied slowly.

John tilted his head to look curiously at the girl. "Complete with furniture, bed and current occupants?" he asked.

"If you wanna' put it that way, yeah."

John gave a short laugh, "Should've expected it. Did he have a say?"

Rogue didn't have to be a psychic to know whom he was talking about. He always talked about _him_ that way. Even before their friendship tore to pieces.

"No, he didn't get a say actually."

"Bet he won't be happy when he finds out who he's bunkin' with."

"Just don't say anything to him," Rogue said quietly,_ "_about me."_ Or us,_ she added silently.

John stopped grinning. She looked so damn serious. "Don't worry. I won't say anything to him concerning you," and almost somberly, he added, "But I _do_ get to kick his ass, right?"

Rogue nodded once, smiling, "When the situation calls for it, be my guest." _Just don't burn the mansion down or anything,_ she wanted to say but stopped short, remembering that he didn't have anything to start a fire _with_. "Hey, I umm… wanted to return you something," she said quickly, digging around in her pocket for awhile, mentally searching for the familiar item.

It was a lie of course. She didn't _want_ to return it. She wanted to keep it. Forever if possible. But she did it on impulse. Besides, she knew how naked he felt without a reliable source of flame within reach. She knew that very well because she felt the same way too sometimes, ever since she touched John way back.

"It's yours," Rogue said softly, "At least until you get that igniter thingy back."

Flicking it open and closed one last time, she reached for his hand and placed the lighter in his palm.

---

_-A/N-: Yay! A sequel/spin-off/part two/continuation!_

_Concerning this spin-off… Generally, I'm trying really hard to stick to the growing relationship between Marie and John and keep them in-character but at the same time, I'm trying to lay the foundations of a bigger plot. I can't guarantee that I'll spend as much time on the Ryro couple, what with an expanding storyline, but I'll try. Tough stuff._

_You people may be thinking 'why didn't you post this sequel as a separate story?' and I shall reply: 'because it won't be fair to other people who haven't yet read Stranger.' Or maybe it's just because I like to accumulate reviews. Hah!_


	8. VIII: Faith

_-A/N-: Some of you may have been a little confused with my Author's Note in the previous chapter. This sequel is being posted **within** this fic and not as a separate fic. 'Cos it's easier for me and for readers as well._

_This chapter is extremely John-centric._

---

It wasn't long before Charles Xavier, in a new body and on new legs, returned to the Institute as a new man. In fact, the professor stepped in through that wide front door just two days after John 'Pyro' Allerdyce had.

Everyone was genuinely thrilled of course, and it was as if a switch had been flicked and the not-quite-so-right atmosphere that encircled the mansion had suddenly changed to what it was before the tragedy occurred.

Not that John really cared.

In the two days that he and Bobby had shared rooms, they hadn't exactly said a word to each other, both too egoistic to bother. A typically mutual friends-turned-enemies relationship.

The only thing that resembled a proper conversation in that room had been when Bobby gave John a disgruntled look on the first day and said, "You're moving in, huh?" And John had replied, "Yeah. Name's John - but you're gonna' call me _Pyro_. Who're you?" Bobby had only rolled his eyes in an 'I-don't-talk-to-traitors' fashion and returned to the book he was reading earlier.

Nights were quiet throughout and they were quite happy with that arrangement. However, that didn't mean there wasn't a slight underlying tension between them that lived within the silence. Maybe they both really secretly longed to talk to each other, to say _something_, to _start_ something. But their days of friendship were long gone and they knew it.

Rogue was a different story however. She was perhaps the only person in the whole school whom he felt genuinely comfortable with. And at times, she had been his pillar of strength. He hadn't forgotten the near-kiss that they shared that night almost three weeks ago and he was sure that she hadn't either.

Her powers were back and he was glad that she was holding up better than he thought, albeit her tendency to keep to herself and stay away from people when she could help it. But John didn't blame her. Not in the slightest.

-

It wasn't long before the telepathic mentor had called for an 'introductory meeting' with all the new mutants who've enrolled themselves into the School for Gifted Youngsters in the time during his supposed demise.

It just so happened that John had been summoned to attend that meeting. And he wasn't too thrilled about the whole idea.

It wasn't like he hated the professor. In fact, the only reason why he told Magneto that he would have killed Xavier if he were given the chance was because he was sure saying it would impress the man. Only, his statement had backfired and he realized then just how much Erik Lensherr respected Charles.

It wasn't like he hated the professor. And that was why he went quietly and without too much fuss.

The door to Xavier's office was left only slightly ajar and John didn't bother to knock, swinging it open in one fluid movement. Everyone in the room turned to stare at him.

"Ah, John. Come in and have a seat," the professor said expansively as he motioned for him to sit on one of the cushioned chairs.

Not that there were very many left.

He took a tentative step into the room and sat on one of the remaining seats and looked around at the crowd gathered in the room. There were easily about ten people assembled in the tiny office and he didn't care much for that. His eyes flitted around the room unenthusiastically. He hated crowds. He really, really hated them.

"And how are you, John?" Xavier asked the mildly irritated boy with sickening politeness from behind his desk and John briefly wondered if the man still had his telepathic powers and was reading his thoughts at that very moment. "It's been a while since we last met it seems."

John was deeply unnerved with the professor's new face. No matter what appearance the old man might have, he still felt the feeling of being read like an open book as he looked into those deep, mesmerizing eyes of his.

"I'm fine," was all John replied before unconsciously slipping his hand into the pocket of his faded jeans, intending to take his, or rather, Rogue's lighter out and busy himself with it. But something stopped him.

'_Not now'_, a voice that was clearly not his own echoed within the depths of John's mind.

So he still _did_ have his powers after all. John looked up at the professor with narrowed eyes. Who was he to tell him what to do and what not to do? But Xavier only gave him an amused smile before turning to the rest of the room to address them.

"Greetings to everyone gathered here," Xavier began, eyes ever twinkling, and John resisted the urge to just walk out of the room at that very moment.

"I understand," the old man continued, "that you are all new mutants here – for whatever reasons you might have, be it that you had no choice but to come here or be it that you thought it was of your best interest."

John snorted, but it went unnoticed.

"I trust you have all been given a warm welcome by the fantastic staff we have here and the fantastic students-" John rolled his eyes as though it were the most ridiculous thing he'd heard, "-and have settled in to this new environment quite nicely. I hope none of you have caused any difficulties or distress so far during my absence…"

The pyrokinetic manipulator looked around at all the other mutants in the room, his attention wandering. Some of the kids were barely half his age, and others looked about the same age as he or maybe even older.

He recognized some of them from previous meetings and some of them from when he was with the Brotherhood. Like that Leech boy whom he'd heard of from Magneto. The 'source of the Cure'. And that guy with the wings – Warren Worthington the third, son of the inventor of the Cure. He had a couple of conversations with him when Rogue first introduced them to each other. John could almost sympathize with the young mutant for being the son of the man who thought suppressing mutation could effectively help people. _It's no wonder the poor sucker came here in the first place_, John thought bleakly.

His gaze fell upon a girl with outrageous purple-dyed hair who was checking her nails with an obvious expression of disinterest towards the speaker. And then something happened. With a sudden, almost swift move of her head, she looked up sharply at John and caught him staring.

John nearly tore his gaze away. Nearly. He was never one to waver in a staring competition. Never.

She looked to be about his age. Possibly younger. Or older. John couldn't decide and that troubled him somewhat. But she seemed so peculiarly familiar to him somehow, the way she looked so smug and sure of herself. He couldn't quite place a finger on what it was.

"… So, it's Risty Wilde isn't it?"

The girl broke eye contact with John and looked at the professor. John's head snapped up when he realized that Xavier was addressing the girl.

"Yeah, that's me. What's it to you, _old man_?"

John frowned. She sounded like a rebellious teenager who was willing to go to the limits just to test someone's patience. And again an odd sense of familiarity struck him.

Xavier however, only smiled a small smile.

"It means a lot to me, my dear," the professor replied. And with that deep, unwavering voice, John was suddenly reminded of Magneto. Of course, Xavier's voice held a note of warmth to it whilst Erik's was as hard and cold as metal. There was a subtle difference, but also a subtle similarity in them both.

Risty, if that was indeed her name, only shrugged and looked down at her nails again.

"And what are your powers?" Xavier pressed on, eyeing the girl.

John swore he noticed a brief flash of annoyance flit across her face before she tilted her head up to regard Charles.

"Why don't you take a guess, old man. Thought they said you could read minds," she said almost haughtily.

Xavier, in one slow motion, leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, still looking at the purple-haired youth.

"You have a very unique gift, Risty," he said at last. And his eyes held a different expression than before, "It would be wise if you used it well," he added. "And welcome to the Institution by the way. I hope you find time to enjoy yourself here as well as learn a few new things."

Risty broke out into a surprising grin, "Oh, I hope so too."

John Allerdyce took a moment to study the impetuous girl as Xavier moved on to other mutants in the room. But try as he might, he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd come across her character before.

It took almost ten minutes before Xavier had finished conversing with every new mutant, save John, in the room – Jimmy, Warren, some dude named Pietro, a whole group of girls and finally, a guy named Jasper Noel, whom John held a slight curiosity in when he first heard what his powers were.

He called himself 'Firethorn' and that alone sparked interest in John. Apparently, he was able to liquefy anything from metal to glass via heat from his body. In other words, he could melt anything with his bare hands if he wanted. And John was somewhat mildly impressed.

_Not as good as setting stuff on fire, of course._ John scoffed. _The loser._

In a few moments, Xavier dismissed the group, apart from John and Warren.

"Let's start again," the professor said finally, focusing his attention on the fire-throwing boy and the winged angel. "You've both met, I trust?"

Warren nodded.

"Good. Then I hope you don't mind if I touch briefly on this, ah, delicate subject." It wasn't a question. "Both of you have seen - and been involved - in the incidents at Alcatraz, am I right?"

John had no idea where this was going but he nodded grimly along with the angel. He had been on the island, wreaking havoc by setting fire to the cars that were tossed up into the air by his Brotherhood leader. _That_ had been good, clean fun John had thought. Well, not exactly 'clean' fun, he realized, but rather that he was playing fairly dirty with the enemy. John frowned, recalling his encounter with Bobby and how the Iceman beat his firepower. _He barely beat me though, that cheater, _John reflected bitterly as he remembered that Bobby had deliberately frozen his hands to stop the fire.

"Of course I wasn't there myself," Xavier continued gravely but with a smile, "Nor did I witness it on the news, after all I was a bit tied-up in a most unusual situation."

John assumed that this 'unusual situation' meant his sudden death caused by the Phoenix and the Grey's house. He wasn't there himself, he knew, but Magneto had told him all about it. He had been, at first, shocked that someone such as Jean Grey could do something so dreadful. That was when he realized that she wasn't Jean Grey at all but someone else entirely and therefore he never once approached the woman during her short stay with the Brotherhood.

"In short," the professor said then, snapping John out of his reverie, "I want to propose to you both an offer-"

"If this is about j…" Warren cut across suddenly, but Xavier held up a hand and the angel stopped in mid-sentence.

"I understand that your circumstances are… special. But you're welcome to leave whenever you please."

_Get to the point already_, John wanted to snap. He didn't care much for the 'special circumstances' that Warren Worthington III had and he was getting tired of listening to this old man.

"Now, I see our friend here's getting impatient," the professor turned to look at John.

_Damn right._

"In my best interest, I have consulted with both Ororo Munroe and Hank McCoy on this matter and we have all decided give you two the opportunity of becoming a full-fledged member of the X-Men."

John's jaw nearly dropped in surprise. Nearly. A full-fledged member of the X-Men? Impossible. And most importantly, _why_? He'd only been here for less than three days, dammit! And his betrayal should have been taken into account…

He was well aware that the team of senior X-Men had originally consisted of Storm, Cyclops and Jean Grey. And then Logan. He knew that both Rogue and Iceman were now full-fledged members as well after the incident at Alkali Lake. Hell, he'd seen Bobby in that leather suit of his at Alcatraz. And just recently, apparently, Kitty Pryde and Colossus became members. John was pretty sure Hank McCoy was part of the club too although he was frequently away from the mansion for long periods of time.

Warren started and after a long silence, gave his answer. "I guess I'll accept the offer," he said rather hesitantly.

"As I said, whenever you feel like you can finally return to your family, do so. It is your choice to make."

Warren nodded.

"Excellent, excellent. Well now," Xavier's gaze fell on the only other being in the room, "it's time for Mr. Allerdyce to make his decision. You may go, Warren."

John eyed the angelic mutant as he was leaving, feathers trailing behind in his wake. Now, it was _his_ turn to make a decision. Almost unthinkingly, he took out the lighter in his pocket and flicked it open.

"So, you trust me then?" John felt the need to ask. He avoided Xavier's gaze and looked at the zippo in his hand instead.

"Truth be told, Storm had been rather hesitant about this matter regarding you and I don't blame her for being cautious."

"I don't blame her either," John muttered darkly. The sound of his lighter snapping shut echoed around the room.

"I understand that this may be an issue that only _you_ can resolve, John. You've switched sides more often than anyone now and only _you_ know where your real allegiances lie."

"So you don't really trust me after all," was John's bitter reply, but there was a hint of a smirk behind those hidden features of his. He had expected it. Damn, of course they wouldn't trust him. Not after all he's done.

The lighter was flicked open again and he lit it, staring into the flames.

Xavier regarded the young mutant gravely, steepling his fingers and peering at him from behind his paper-clogged desk. "My boy," the professor began, and again John was reminded of that powerful metal manipulating man he had once served.

"If I don't trust you well enough," Xavier continued, "do you think I would be making you this offer at all?"

John fell silent. Whenever Magneto used that tone, he knew that it was when the man was being testy. But with Charles Xavier, John couldn't tell.

"You don't have to give me an answer as of yet. Find some time to think it through. You seem to need it. Just don't make a rash decision. It is _your_ choice ultimately. Not mine."

There was a note of finality in the professor's voice that signalled the closure of their conversation.

Although his mind was running a million miles a second, John nodded and smirked, finally snapping his lighter shut. "Appreciate the offer, old man. You'll get my answer soon enough." He stood up abruptly to dismiss himself.

When he reached the door, he paused long enough to add, "And if I actually _do_ join up, I hope the others can stand me being around them. Not many of them are actually fond of me you know, _Xavier_?" he intoned, drawing out his last word almost spitefully.

And with that, John Allerdyce stalked out of the room.

-

That night, as the clock struck twelve, Bobby Drake had climbed into his bed after a long night of studying. Glancing once at the only other boy in the room ­– who was idly staring up into the ceiling thinking of god-knows-what - he clicked his bedside lights off with every intention to get some shut-eye.

His eyes flew open the moment he heard John get up and reach for his zippo lighter by his bedside.

"Okay, where the hell do you think you're going?" Bobby grounded out as loud as he dared to go.

John looked up at Bobby, startled. And then he broke out into a wide grin. "You talking to me now, huh?" he drawled, sauntering to the door.

Bobby glared, "If you get caught, I swear-"

John snorted, "Oh please. We used to sneak out all the time. Who're _you_ to tell me not to?"

Bobby opened his mouth indignantly to argue but no sound came out.

"Don't worry your icy little head about me, Iceman. I won't. Get. Caught."

Bobby could only stare blankly as John left the room.

He didn't know where his roommate was planning on going but deep down, he felt he didn't truly want to find out.

---

_-A/N-: Note that Risty and Pietro aren't OCs. They're actually real characters from the comics/cartoons. Hope I haven't bored you guys with this chapter. But I guess it was kinda' meant to depict John's relationship with the others around him, particularly Xavier and how they both regard each other. _

_Next chapter will be full of Ryro-ness. So fear not._

_Constructive reviews are much appreciated. And here are some responses to my reviewers:_

**_we-r-the-cure, Hikairi, the sillylittlepanda, Jade598, _****_Kari Lynn Craine_**_**, yaba**: -Hands you all each a random bag of cookies- It's on the house. Frequent reviewers get cookies. Lots of them. Haha. Welcome back, guys. So glad you're willing to follow the sequel._

**_PyScHoThErApY17_**_: Aww… I'm glad you like this fic so much. I swear I could hug you right now too! Haha. To answer your question, yeah, this sequel is IN this fic 'cos it's easier for me to update and for readers too. Or at least I think so. Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Secondrate**: Ahah! Someone who doesn't like Bobby! You are a rarity, my friend. Anyway, a day-to-day fic is what I might try for the first couple of chapters but then it will have to pick up its pace. And thanks for the suggestion! –Hands you a cookie-_

_**Obiwanfan**: Good. You liked it. I feel all happy and fuzzy inside. Yay! Thanks for the constant reviews. You're awesome. –Gives you a basket of chocolate chip cookies-_

**_Xtreme Enigma334, _****_rogueparker, _****_UltimateRider_**_**, Anigen**: -Hands each of you a cookie- Thanks for reviewing guys! Always appreciate it._


	9. IX: Black and White

_-A/N-: Wine and chocolates make my endorphins go into overdrive. And when I write in such a strange frame of mind… Well… you'll find out soon enough._

---

She sat there, staring impassively at the lone, unlit candle on her beside table. The weak, glowing table lamp threw various shades of light against it, almost illuminating the pink stick of scented wax artfully.

She didn't know why she was finding it so goddamn hard to sleep that night and she morosely blamed it on the three cups of hot coffee that she had almost three hours ago. Now, midnight was fast approaching and she was as wide-awake as an owl on the prowl.

Sighing with resignation, she stood and walked steadily over to where her wooden bookshelf stood. Purposefully shifting a couple of _Harry Potter_ novels out of the way, she took hold of the half-hidden box – the one given to her by Bobby on her birthday that was full of photographs - and went back to sit on the edge of her bed.

She paused for a moment, just staring into the nondescript cardboard box, before rummaging through it, not really knowing what she was looking for. If she were to tell you the truth, this would be her first time actually looking through the contents.

She had pulled up several pictures, gazed at each one for awhile and then put them back, only to delve in again and pull another one out. It was a slow and tedious process. But she knew that if she wanted to get over them both - Bobby and her - she would have to go through this. Besides, it was something to pass the time.

There were many – her and Bobby, her and Bobby, Bobby and her, her and Piotr and Jubilee and half of Bobby, her and Bobby and Jean Grey in the background, her standing alone next to the foosball table… Some of these pictures she didn't even remember being taken. Finally, she found one that genuinely caught her interest.

Bobby wasn't even in this one. In fact, Rogue was pretty sure that he'd been the person who took it.

It was a small and rather nice, albeit slightly skewed, picture of her and John standing next to the large, monumental fountain just in front of the mansion.

John, John, John. It was the one person who'd been stuck in her head all week, his very thoughts and memories smothering everyone else's including her own. This caused Rogue to wonder if it really _was_ the coffee that was keeping her up right now, or the wandering thoughts of John Allerdyce.

She shook her head, looking back down at the photograph.

With one hand in his pocket and usual trademark smirk, he was leaning in close to ensure the both of them were in the shot. She herself had a diminutive smile on her face but an expression of abject anxiety hidden in her eyes at the close proximity of them both. Even _then_ she had been wary of her personal space, as though she might inadvertently kill someone if they got too close.

It was a gorgeous photograph of them both though, that much was true. Well, it was the _only_ photograph of her and John that she owned; in contrast to the dozens of photographs she had of her and Bobby. And that was the big difference of it all. It was so painfully obvious how the two of them were different. Ice and fire, tranquil silence and raging fury, _Bobby_ and _John_. One held reluctance and reservation, the other held passion for power.

They were so immeasurably _different_ and it never ceased to amaze Rogue. It was as if they represented black and white – so diverse yet they were only just shades, not colours.

Aimlessly flicking through the rest of the coloured pictures in the box, she wondered briefly if it would help her if she were to burn the ones her and Bobby. This urge to set fire to every fucking unwanted thing in her life had been growing inside of her for a while now.

And she was pretty sure it wasn't just the Pyro in her head who sought after it.

Or maybe it was.

She couldn't tell anymore. It was as though a whole bunch of feelings and emotions had been piled into a blender and someone had hit purée. She couldn't tell the difference between what she wanted and what someone else did…

It was only after she had returned the box and the rest of the photographs to its rightful place on the shelf when she heard the sure but silent knocking on her bedroom door.

At first she assumed it was the triple dose of caffeine messing with her head. But then she heard it a second time and frowned, stumbling towards the door and cracking it open an inch or so, wondering who could up this late past curfew.

She wasn't as surprised as she thought when she found herself staring up into the eyes of John Allerdyce. Maybe she had known - had been expecting - it to be him all along. He'd done it before, with Bobby of course, and the trio had sneaked out on countless occasions together. It had been exhilaratingly thrilling the first few times they did it, but after what seemed like the tenth attempt the whole affair had lost its excitement.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, not knowing whether the panic in her voice stemmed from the fear that John could've been caught on the way here or the fear that they would be seen together.

"Hey to you too," John said in a low voice, giving her a charming smile, "Thought you'd be asleep by now. You look fairly awake though."

She mumbled something about coffee and owls and pink candles and not being able to sleep and-– she stopped rambling. John only grinned as though he understood everything she had said.

"Need some company?"

Rogue gave him a grateful smile. He could be straightforward at times but he sure as hell knew what she wanted deep down inside. It should be the other way around of course, after all she had him in his head.

She moved slightly to one side, allowing him entry into her room, not thinking twice about it. Because she didn't need to.

To others, such a move may have raised eyebrows. A girl and a guy in the same room in the middle of the night in a _school_ no less. How could that alone not arouse suspicion? But this was _John_ and this was _Rogue_ and that was all the reason they needed.

She shut the door and turned to regard the boy in front of her who seemed almost surreal in the dim light of her table lamp. The blonde from his hair was fading and she noticed that it was coming back to its natural chocolate brown.

"Guess you couldn't sleep too, huh?"

John silently paced over to sit down at her desk before answering.

"A lot's been on my mind lately," he started, almost evasively, "And I needed to clear my head."

"So you came here," she said slowly, taking a seat on her bed.

John tilted his head to look at Rogue, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Obvious, ain't it?"

She gazed at him lightly, and even then she saw from underneath the smile, within the depths of his eyes, that something was troubling him somewhat.

And nothing ever bothered John. Nothing. Well, nothing ever bothered _Pyro_, anyway.

"You wanna' talk about it?" she offered quietly and at the same time wondering what the 'it' could be, "If Bobby's giving you any trouble-"

"Nah, it's not him. Although he's being a real bitch," he paused, thinking for a second. "It's about a decision that I don't know if I can make."

He then told her all about his meeting with Charles Xavier and the offer that he had proposed. He never thought such a thing would take so much time to consider and it had reopened old, long-forgotten memories that split right down the middle from events before and after the Brotherhood.

And it was then that Rogue knew why it was so hard a decision for him to make.

He may be living back at _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters_ again, but he isn't the same. His beliefs were still partially stuck with the beliefs of Erik Lensherr and he doesn't know what to do now that he's being imposed into deciding something that meant choosing sides.

Rogue understood.

"If it troubles you so much, just forget it. Don't."

It was a simple resolution even to her own ears, but it was the only thing she felt she could say that wouldn't sway his outlook on the whole affair.

He shrugged, then looked away.

"But I don't want to _just forget it_. I kinda' _want_ to. Be in it, I mean. And then I sorta'… don't want to. Well, not like that. I feel that I _can't_…" he looked helplessly back at Rogue.

She was startled. This was the first time she'd ever seen John Allerdyce so concerned over something. It was a huge change from the ever-cocky, overconfident, 'I-don't-give-a-damn' John she knew.

_Clink. Snap. Click. Snap._

He had his – her – their? - lighter out now and was wordlessly snapping it open and closed and she realised how much she missed the sharp resonance of metal on metal over and over again.

"I understand completely if you don't want to. But it isn't without its perks I guess…" Rogue said, smiling.

"If you mean wearing those ugly-as-hell leather suits then I think you've mixed up 'perks' with 'atrocities'."

Rogue was relieved to see that John had a smirk on his face.

"No, by 'perks' I mean dangerous Danger Room sessions, getting to ride the Blackbird-"

"I nearly died the last time I sat in the Blackbird. I swear," John said seriously, recalling the day Ororo had piloted the jet through a storm and a series of tornadoes in an effort to escape a couple of jet planes and explosive missiles.

"Yeah," Rogue was grinning openly now, "Just be thankful you're still alive."

John rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Still, it was some crazy shit."

"Hey, at least you weren't the one who got sucked through the hole and plummeted hundreds of feet down to an untimely death before being saved by this unknown blue, teleporting guy."

John snickered, "Yeah. Well, just be thankful you're still alive," he mocked, mimicking her previous words. "What the heck happened to that blue guy anyway?"

Rogue shrugged, "Storm said he went on to become a priest. Or something."

"Ah." John couldn't, for the life of him, see how such a demonic-looking mutant could be a holy man.

It seemed as though all melancholic and troubling thoughts had disappeared and they both silently decided to stay away from the issue for awhile.

"So, how're you and Bobby holing up?" Rogue asked.

"Alright I guess. He hates me, I hate him. Feeling's mutual," John stated lightly, and then much more seriously he asked, "How about you? You holding up okay?"

Rogue tried not to frown. Her inner turmoil of suffering _with_ the Cure, _without_ the Cure… Powers or not, it was unnerving how alike she had felt towards both.

She opened her mouth to reply John.

Not before being cut off by a loud knocking at the door.

---

_-A/N-: Umm… Uh oh. This is probably my first cliffhanger ever._

_Oh, I'm going on a school camp for a week so don't expect an update anytime soon. I'll post Chapter 10 ASAP after I get back._

_To answer _**_Kari Lynn Craine_**_**'s **question, yep, Jasper 'Firethorn' Noel is an OC of mine. He doesn't play a very big part actually (or at least not **yet**). Just some random kid I decided to put in there so that Pyro could call him a 'loser'. Haha._

_Huge thanks to reviewers **Xtreme Enigma334, secondrate, yaba, we-r-the-cure, BitterSweet Amusement, Obiwanfan, PyScHoThErApY17, Sassy08, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Fallen Heart, EvilEyeKat, the sillylittlepanda, GaijinVicarious **__and **Skouris.**_


	10. X: Disquiet

_-A/N-: I'm finally back! This must be the most fast-paced chapter so far._

---

"Oh, _shit_," Rogue hissed sharply, staring at the door for a moment before looking back at John, "Go… Hide! Do something!" she mouthed silently, frantically gesturing towards the only other door in her room – the one that led to her bathroom.

John nodded once and swiftly darted into the bathroom looking somewhat miffed. But that was all Rogue saw of him before he shut the door quickly but quietly.

There was a knock on her door again. Rogue swore under her breath before scrambling to open it, all the while mentally ticking off people who could not possibly be out there in her mind. Did they know that John was in here? Or…?

As soon as she swung the door open, all she could do was stare blankly at the boy who stood before her. From what she surmised, he looked somewhat uncomfortable just being there at her doorstep. And she didn't blame him because she herself had no idea what to do.

"Hey," he started, looking over her shoulder nervously as though making an attempt to peer into her bedroom. She blocked his line of sight with her body and leant against the doorframe defiantly.

She was genuinely perplexed. What the hell was Bobby doing here?

"Have you seen John?" he asked finally, looking back at Rogue, his crystal blue eyes meeting her gaze.

She raised an eyebrow. _So this was all about John?_

"Yeah. He's in here with me and we're having a fucking great time," she snapped, glaring at Bobby, "Of _course_ I haven't seen Allerdyce. What do you think? He's been screwing me behind your back?"

Bobby looked startled for a moment and then coughed uneasily. Rogue narrowed her eyes. Did he truly _believe_ that? Even though he knew full well that she couldn't even be touched?

"Keep it down," Bobby whispered almost anxiously, "And I'm sorry. It's just that… John's not in bed and…"

"Well you've got the wrong room. Try someplace else. Goodnight," she grated.

Rogue made a motion to shut the door in his bewildered face but just as she was about to, he put his hand firmly against it, preventing it from being closed. She frowned. He had never been this impulsive before.

"Listen," he began in exasperation, "I didn't come here just for that," his voice was much lower now, "I… Could we… talk?" he looked away awkwardly, "About us? Please?"

Rogue heard the underlying plea in his voice. It sounded as though he were almost _desperate_, although she didn't know _why._ Turning on her heel, she took a step into her room. She didn't want this. Not now. Not even if John weren't hidden in her bathroom.

She turned back sharply to face him, "What's left to talk about? Isn't it obvious? There's nothing left to say, Bobby. Nothing."

Bobby flinched and stepped into her room, hastily shutting the door. He didn't want Rogue's voice travelling down the hallway and waking everybody up.

"Rogue… we need to think this through. I can't stand the fact that both of us aren't talking like we used to-"

Rogue rounded on Bobby, glaring with all the intensity of Wolverine and feeling all the rage of Pyro boil up within her. "_We_?" she said, dangerously low, "There's no 'we' in this anymore, Bobby. It's all about _you_. You and that – that Kitty Pryde. _She's_ in your imaginary team of 'we' now."

Bobby made a strangled noise. This was the first time she had actually mentioned _Kitty_ as being the cause for all this, "She – you… Look, just leave her out of this. She didn't do anything! Don't you remember the times when the two of us were at-"

Rogue cut him off in anger.

"_Don't_. Don't you DARE. We used to be such good friends. And then we became more than that, not even thinking twice about how our bloody relationship could affect others," - _like John_ - "and it all fell to pieces when you fucking broke my heart. And now you _dare_ remind me of the things that happened in the past and think that we can still go back to what we once were? Reliving all those 'good times' we had like nothing happened?" she took a deep, wavering breath, "You're talking about it like we could bring those days back…"

Bobby opened his mouth to say something but Rogue didn't let him.

"For days I'd been wishing that somehow we could… be just friends again, you know? Back to when we weren't together," tears welled up in her eyes but she wiped them away angrily, knowing that her heart was already broken and in the process of being mended. She didn't want Bobby anywhere near it again. "But I know now that even _that_ isn't possible," she spat.

Bobby sighed, walking slowly towards the clearly distraught girl. "Rogue… It's not all about you-"

"No. It's _not_. It's all about _you_. You and **_her_** and getting to touch someone instead of settling for someone you know you can't."

Pause.

"Get out, Bobby. Just leave."

She made a movement towards the door. But Bobby grabbed her by her sleeved arm, causing her to involuntarily cringe.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Bobby said, sounding genuinely apologetic, and he leaned in to attempt to embrace her. A comforting gesture that backfired.

"Don't touch me!" Rogue yelled as she recoiled, not really caring if she woke the whole mansion up. "Just get out of my room, Bobby. Go!"

Bobby wasn't about to be rejected. He was pretty sure that it was just her mutation of having the emotions and feelings of the different people in her head that was causing her unstable outbursts and moods. "I won't leave until-" he began but was rudely interrupted.

"You heard her, Drake. Get the fuck out."

The world seemed to stand still as Bobby looked up sharply to see John standing in the doorway of Rogue's bathroom, lighter in hand.

"So, you've been here all this time!" Bobby growled almost furiously. If he was surprised, he hid it exceptionally well.

"Door's just there, man," John pointed to the bedroom door that Rogue stood in front of. "Use it. Or else." He snapped his lighter open menacingly.

Bobby stood his ground. "You wouldn't," he hissed, voice betraying his confidence. It was a lie and he knew it. John would never hold back.

"Oh, I would and you know it, Drake." He lit the lighter.

John Allerdyce would. And that was exactly why Bobby struck first.

John was nearly caught off guard when a jet of ice shot towards him. _Nearly_. It was usually him who made the first move after all.

Ducking out of the way, the stream of ice just narrowly missed his head and hit the open door instead, freezing it and half the sink within the bathroom behind him.

John was staring incredulously from the frozen door to Bobby. And then, in a fit of rage, he retaliated.

Ice countered fire almost immediately and Rogue screamed. Steam rose and engulfed the entire bedroom. It was suddenly much too hot and much too cold all at the same instant but the two boys didn't even take notice.

Rogue's eyes started to water and the damp air grew heavy. She'd seen them fight before. But it was never like this. Never. Was this how it was at Alcatraz? She didn't even want to know.

Drops of warm water condensed on the pale ceiling and fell like rain. She screamed at the two of them again. It was all Rogue could do to prevent her room from being destroyed.

"Stop it! Bobby! John! Just cut it out!" she shrieked, wildly considering throwing herself at one of them and draining them completely. But what good would _that_ do? They were in enough trouble already for using their powers to try to kill each other. During after hours no less.

"I'll only stop if _he_ does," John yelled.

"I don't believe you!" Bobby shouted back, and then he added, "I can't understand how you can trust this guy, Rogue."

Rogue only hoped that someone would barge in to stop the fight before one of them got hurt. Her room looked like a hot, steamy spa at the moment but it was no where near as relaxing. Her hair was dripping wet, she felt as though she were freezing and burning at the same time, and the anxiousness within her was building to a climax.

"Stop. Please stop…" Rogue pleaded weakly.

The pillar of pale-blue ice and bright-orange fire suddenly seemed to dwindle moments after and for a split second, Rogue believed that they were finally ceasing the hostility. But their bewildered faces and looks of confusion told her otherwise.

It didn't really matter because her bedroom door flew wide open, nearly crashing into Rogue if it weren't for her quick side step.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

And before anyone knew what the fuck was happening, John found himself being pinned to the wall next to the half-frozen bathroom door by a pair of tremendously strong arms.

Logan.

He had dropped his lighter on the ground when he hit the wall and the livid fire-manipulating mutant glared past the Wolverine to look at Bobby.

Bobby was in a similar situation, but he had been tackled to the floor by the colossus Piotr instead. His shirt was soaked through and he looked as though he were in a painful position.

Steam wafted around them all. And the silence that followed, punctured only by droplets of water hitting the puddles on the ground, was almost sparking with such intensity that Rogue found it hard to breathe.

Ororo and half the students living in the dorms down the hallway were standing just beyond the door, peering in inquisitively. None of them looked too happy about the commotion that woke them all up.

They were in hot water now. Literally and figuratively.

---

_-A/N-: The dynamics between a shattered friendship. Simply heartbreaking._

_It was short, but I thought I'd better post something before you guys decided to kill me._

_I thought it was about time I mentioned something about the Bobby/Rogue/John/Kitty love 'rectangle'. So I did! I was pretty happy with this chapter and I thought they were all pretty much in character, except for Rogue of course. Having loads of people in her head makes her a tad unpredictable._

_Nice, long, constructive reviews would be awesome!_

_Thanks to my lovely reviewers: **secondrate, PsYcHoThErApY17, we-r-the-cure, Kari Lynn Craine, yaba, Obiwanfan, Psyc0gurl0, Xtreme Enigma334, jade598, xLiLix, BitterSweet Amusement, the sillylittlepanda, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, PyroSprite, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe**__**, EvilEyeKat. **And a huge welcome to all new readers!_


	11. XI: Resolving Conflict

_-A/N-: Can you believe that this fic was intended to be a one-shot?_

---

She very truly wished that time would stand still at that very moment – like in a still photograph where everything froze in place, and every little infinitesimal detail could be further examined at some later occasion. But no, time wouldn't wait for her, nor for anyone else.

Not that she would ever forget the image of pure rage written on Logan's face, the pain written on Bobby's, the grimness on Piotr's, the distress on Ororo's and above all the others, the look of inner-turmoil on John's.

John. He seemed indignant, almost angry, in his current position – pinned to the wall – but, as Rogue searched them even at such a distance, his eyes betrayed what he truly felt. She was pretty sure that the only thing going through his mind at that moment was the apprehension of being thrown out of the mansion for trying to do something that was clearly in self-defense. Well, theoretically, it was Bobby's fault for starting it. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Moments passed and Piotr slowly released his grip on Bobby, allowing him to rise from the wet floor. Logan however, seemed to have no intention on letting John go.

Eyes still trained on the seditious pyrokinetic mutant before him, the Wolverine grunted and spoke into the impregnated silence.

"I always thought putting you two together was a bad idea. But maybe the real issue here is this: what in the _hell_ are the both of you doing in _Marie's_ room?" His growl was deathly quiet. "Whose bright idea was it to start one of your bitch fights in the middle of the night? You kids had better start talking. Starting with the Ice Queen," he pointedly turned to glare at Bobby expectantly.

"Uh…" Bobby began, an obvious frown on his face, and John very clearly tensed. "Well, actually it was…" Pause.

Rogue shut her eyes in dread. _ShutupBobby. Don'tsayanything. Shutupshutupshutup._ Was he going to blame it all on John? Was he going to _lie_? Wait. They hated each other. Of _course_ he was going to accuse John of starting the whole thing, lie or _not_.

Bobby appeared to be thinking hard. Thinking about what to say most likely, the way his eyes kept flickering over to John and then to her and then back to John again... But Rogue knew that she herself would have no idea on what was going through that mind of his in that instant.

At last time sped up, and Bobby opened his mouth to speak.

He sounded almost guilty when he said it.

"It was me. I started it. It was my fault."

Rogue did a double take and exchanged a quick glance with John, who raised an eyebrow in her direction. Did Bobby just say what she thought he said? Was Bobby Drake _defending_ John Allerdyce?

Logan's grip on John slackened a fraction as he looked at Bobby. "You started it, huh?" It was more of an accusing statement than a question.

John looked into Bobby's cold, blue eyes skeptically. His face was unreadable and John was unsure of the sincerity that the Iceman was suddenly revealing.

Reinstated amity? Or just plain honesty?

Whatever it was, John cleared his throat and decided to speak, even though there was no outright acquiescence for him to just butt in to say something.

"He _did_ make the first move. But it wasn't totally his fault. I guess we both got aggravated whilst provoking each other. And things just went too far."

John sounded no where near as guilt-ridden as Bobby, but the way in which the fire manipulator was looking at the boy who was at his throat just moments before told Rogue everything she needed to know. Just moments ago they were fighting. Now, as though a switch had been flicked and they had both just passed a test they had set for one another, they were sticking together, _defending_ each other, like John was never a traitor and Bobby never hated him.

It was a truce of sorts.

A weakly restored, albeit unstable friendship. Forged right then and there on the spot.

Rogue didn't know whether to laugh herself silly or to scream her lungs out.

Logan started talking again just as Ororo Munroe stepped further into the room, frowning at the puddle of water that she'd just treaded on.

"Right. Fine. If you two bloody kids can't get along in the same room without trying to eradicate each other in a heartbeat then maybe we should just throw one of you out on the streets and see what happens."

"_What?_" Rogue exclaimed, unable to help herself. Throw one of them out? What the fuck? He could not possibly be _serious_. She didn't think she would be able to stand it if John were thrown out. And she didn't think she hated Bobby to such an extent that she would want him kicked out either.

Logan glanced at Ororo implicatively, "You heard me. 'Cause we _apparently_ have no other rooms available at the moment."

Ororo made an impatient noise. "No, we're _not_ throwing anyone out. And damn it Logan, it's true that we don't have anymore rooms. I thought we had this conversation before?"

Logan let go of John completely and turned to confront the weather-manipulating woman. "What do you suggest we do then?"

Ororo glanced around Rogue's room once, taking in the minor burn marks on the walls, and her eyes finally fell on Piotr, who was standing next to Bobby trying hard to look inconspicuous but failing terribly.

"We'll switch roommates," she said at last, making up her mind decisively. "Piotr will move out of Pietro's room and in with Bobby. John then moves in with Pietro."

"It's settled then," Logan said hastily before anyone said anything else.

"Pietro?" John inquired, quirking an eyebrow. The name was familiar to him – he was one of those new mutants he noticed at the gathering the previous morning.

"That's me, dude," someone quipped from the crowd gathered outside. "Hey, you guys hear that? Pyro's gonna' be bunking with me!" Pietro announced frivolously.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. This was probably the first time she'd ever heard Pietro speak. And she was disturbed by the indecipherable intonation that the arrogant-sounding teen used. From his tone of voice, it sounded as if he'd known everything about the Pyro-was-a-Brotherhood-member issue and was either awed about the fact that this 'traitor' was about to be his roommate, or extremely condescending about it. Rogue couldn't tell and it bothered her.

"Alright, people. Back to your dorms. _Now_," Ororo ordered exasperatedly, "It's almost two in the morning. Nothing for you to see here."

Students slowly dispersed. Ororo turned back to the rest.

"Right, I want Piotr and John to pack up their stuff and switch rooms. And Rogue, try your best to clean this room up. Get Pietro to help you or something."

"Aw, _what_?" Pietro groaned, already set to get back to his room, "But I didn't make any of this mess!"

Ororo only gave the teen a hard look.

"Alright. Fine. Cool. I'll help her," Pietro drawled, sending a hand through his wild, silver hair in irritation.

"Good. Now that we're all settled, let's get moving already. I need my beauty sleep," Logan growled and left the room in a huff without further reason.

Ororo sent one last glance towards them all – Bobby, Piotr, Pietro, John and Rogue – before leaving.

With a sigh, Piotr made his way out of the room. "Guess I've got to go pack my stuff now and move in with Bobby."

Bobby shrugged and followed suit, pausing only to give Rogue a quick unreadable look before disappearing around the corner.

Rogue looked at the two remaining boys, her mind a blank.

John gave Pietro a strange look before asking, "Where the hell's your room?"

It was Rogue who answered immediately, "Piotr's. You should know where that is."

John grinned, "Got it. Guess I gotta' go haul my stuff out of Bobby's and into Pietro's now." He paused for a moment, and then said quietly, "I'll talk to you later."

Rogue nodded and watched as John exited her room. She wished he'd stayed a while longer, wished she'd given him a goodnight kiss maybe. But that would probably have killed him.

"Right. Let's get this shit over with," Pietro said then.

He had managed to retrieve a towel from Rogue's bathroom, soak up all the water on the floor and walls, change her bed sheets and covers and, almost chivalrously, returned the chair that belonged to her desk to its rightful place – all in a span of less than thirty seconds.

Rogue stared. So _this_ was Pietro Maximoff's mutant ability. Super speed. She tried not to look too impressed.

"You could have at least given me a chance to help you," she said, looking warily at the boy. He was possibly just a tad younger than her and he had the air of a haughty, conceited teen.

Pietro scoffed. "You kidding me? You? Help_ me_?" He gave a short laugh as though she said the most ridiculous thing.

Rogue just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're right. You don't _need_ my help."

He nodded.

Rogue gave him a pallid smile. _Maybe this guy isn't as bad as I thought, _she conceded. As an after thought, she extended a hand – an obvious gesture of acquaintance. "We hadn't been introduced yet I think. Name's Rogue. You're Pietro, I know."

The teen glanced down at Rogue's outstretched hand and looked back up at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Sorry. I'd love to stay and chat and everything. But I really don't care much for a get-to-know-you session right now. See ya." And instead of taking Rogue's hand, he rocketed out of her room, leaving her to stare after the speed demon in annoyance.

-

John was in Bobby's room, making all the necessary rearrangements to his bed and throwing his stuff back into his duffel bag that he'd unpacked just days ago. Not that he had much stuff to pack away in the first place anyway.

He was clicking his lighter open and shut all the while. It calmed him down somewhat.

Bobby was eyeing him from the other corner of the room. They hadn't said a word to each other since their heated dispute but Bobby had an increasing desire to break the silence, punctured only by the sound of metal against metal from the zippo. He felt he needed to say something to John. But he could tell John wasn't in the mood to converse with him right now.

But the questions plagued his mind. Were they still at loggerheads with each other? Did he really see the armistice between them or did he misinterpret John's intention of backing him up just after their fight? What was with that anyway? And what's going on between him and Rogue? Why the heck was he in Rogue's room in the first place?

He felt he had to ask. He had to know. To see. To find out. He decided to test John.

He phrased the question such that he knew John wouldn't take too seriously. But then again, you'd never know what John took seriously and what he did not. Still, his voice was light as he broke the silence.

"So, you tryin' to steal my girl now, huh?"

John's head whipped up so fast and sudden that Bobby swore his neck cricked. John had one of his eyebrows in the air and Bobby knew he was taking this _very_ seriously.

"Where the hell did you get that idea from? 'Your girl'? You never cared about her in the first place!" John grated.

It came as a surprise and Bobby took a moment to flounder for the words he was looking for before replying.

"Look, 'Dyce. Her and I – We may not see eye to eye anymore. But that doesn't mean I won't kick your ass if you do anything to her."

John snapped his lighter shut, like closing an imaginary book of irresolution. The Iceman's voice had been hard and quiet. And John knew he was serious.

But the wavering resonance of a restored camaraderie was there.

The familiar sense of a rigid friendship was there.

It still was. Is. Always had been.

John grinned.

"Don't worry, Ice. I would no sooner hurt her than get myself kicked in the ass by _you_ of all people."

---

_-A/N-: I can hear people screaming 'RYRO! RYRO! RYRO!' right about now. Okay, yes, there'll be a lot more Pyro/Rogue in the next chapter. I swear. Oh, and I bet no one noticed that I used the fade in/fade out sequence from the prequel. Heh._

_Also, it hadn't really crossed my mind until **Fallen Heart** suggested it so… **WANTED: beta readers for this fic!** You see, most of my chapters aren't beta'd and I don't really have the time to re-read it all time and again. Anyone interested, drop me a message! Preferably someone with an eye for literature – you don't have to be an expert in writing proper English but good enough to check for typos and/or missing words. Help is greatly appreciated._

_THANKS FOR THE FEEDBACK, REVIEWERS: **EvilEyeKat, em wolf, rogueparker, PsYcHoThErApY17, Kari Lynn Craine, secondrate, Xtreme Enigma334, we-r-the-cure, the sillylittlepanda, blonde-gal, jade598, yaba, tanza, Obiwanfan, xLiLix, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, AquaRias, Black Sorceress, Fallen Heart, wowimweird, Dementa.**_


	12. XII: Not Untouchable

_-A/N-: Chapter 12. Finally. And in Johnny's perspective too._

---

_The anger inside was overwhelming. The eldest was lying dead on the floor, lead embedded deep within bone. The others were panicking, horrified, lowering themselves to the ground, almost given up in helplessness. _

_But he refused. He wouldn't give up. Wouldn't give in. Just seeing them cower on the ground was too much for him to put up with. The burning sensation within was building and building and building so much that it scared him. His breaths were deep; his eyes were dark and his fingers twitched almost involuntarily, fumbling the metallic lighter in his hand. He was afraid, but would not let his fear show. He would never let his fear show. His fingers were steady, even if his hands shook, and the sound of his lighter snapping open rang through his ears._

_It was almost as though he had no control over himself. He heard himself speak harshly out loud, but also partially to himself, reflecting._

"_You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?" His fingers ran along side the cool surface of metal. And then the flame was lit, "I'm the worst one," he heard himself state blatantly. _

_And he believed it._

_As his boiling rage exploded outward, the inferno coursed through him, giving him the absolute power over the small fire from the lighter, causing it to grow--manipulating it to destroy._

_It was as though he were watching from the sidelines, watching himself blow them all away with pillars of flame, sending the cars up in smoke with raging balls of fire._

_And he felt in total control. And everything else didn't matter._

_But then he heard voices, soft at first, but gradually increasing in intensity within his mind. Voices. Voices. So many voices. They whispered, they screamed, they faded… And then they stopped. And he felt himself go weak. His powers faltered and his heart felt like it had stopped but at the same time, was pounding so fast he thought he was going to die._

_He felt as though he were falling, falling, falling from a great height but never truly reaching the ground._

_He **was** going to die. _

_He felt his power being drained rapidly and he had no idea why. His fire wavered and disappeared all together. He felt all the heat leave him and he was left cold inside. And he didn't know why. _

_Finally, he looked down._

_And he saw her clinging to his ankle with an expression of utmost horror. _

_She was horrified, not by what he'd done, but by what she was absorbing. There was no other way. She didn't mean to; didn't **want** to. But she did. And she was mortified._

_His breathing turned shallow and his eyelids grew heavy and finally, he felt his legs give way. Kneeling on the ground, he looked up just in time to see the outcome of his destruction be extinguished by crystalline frost that was controlled by the one person who should not have control over that power._

_And all of a sudden, the scene before him exploded. In fact, it exploded so rapidly that he couldn't help but let loose scream. Everything was wiped out before his very eyes. But only one thing went through his mind._

_Rogue._

_-_

John Allerdyce's eyes flew wide open and immediately, he sat up in bed, looking around wildly and trying to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes finally landed on one of the only familiar things to him in the room. His lighter. He sighed with relief, knowing it was close.

It was another one of _those_ dreams. They usually come and go on their own. But he didn't know why this particular one kept haunting him with increasing regularity.

His thin, faded shirt was drenched through with sweat. He felt as though he ran a marathon, did a one-eighty turn, and ran all the way back again. He grunted, raking his fingers through his dirty-blonde hair restlessly.

That was when he glanced at the bed beside him and realized that the boy in which he shared his room with wasn't in bed._ Where the hell's Pietro? _His eyes flew to the clock on his bedside. It was well past lunch.

Hell, had he really been asleep all that long?

His thoughts traveled back to the night before. That's right, he only got to bed at about two that morning. Well, so did Pietro really. But he was willing to bet that Pietro hadn't spent half the time awake, contemplating about the events that happened earlier that night. If truth be told, John hadn't really slept at all that night.

Pulling his damp shirt off, he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, taking his time to get changed and spending more time than was necessary in front of the mirror. He wasn't surprised to find vague shadows under his eyes. He looked so goddamn tired. But he didn't really feel it.

When he finally stalked out through his bedroom door, lighter in hand, he had only one thing in mind.

He descended the stairs, acutely aware of the silence throughout the deserted hallways, and passed the games room, finding no one but Kitty and Warren at the foosball table—both forcefully trying to beat the other.

"Hey? Any of you seen Rogue?" John couldn't help but ask.

It took awhile before any of them answered. Finally, Kitty glanced up shortly to give him a reply of 'no' before redirecting her concentration on defeating Warren.

_No?_ "Where the hell is everyone then?" he finally snapped, exasperated. He hadn't really conversed much with Kitty Pryde before and this was probably the first time he was actually speaking to her since his return. He didn't exactly like the girl, however he didn't hate her either. But sometimes, she could get on his nerves.

Kitty rolled her eyes, "Don't you know?" she intoned, annoyed, "Most of the students are all having classes right now." She was distracted for just a fraction of a second and Warren took this opportunity to score a goal.

Kitty cursed and looked up to glare at John, "I could've beaten him. I almost _had_ him! You-!"

"Okay! I'm outta' here," John cut through hastily, "Oh, and by the way, you seriously suck at foosball."

He left the games room with a smirk, just in time to hear Kitty's fist connect loudly with the foosball table and Warren's short laugh.

So the students were in class. But Rogue wasn't a student. Not anymore anyway. And he himself stopped taking classes long ago; he didn't really bother. Not that anyone asked him about it anyway, after his return.

So where was she?

He found himself in the kitchen after awhile, unnerved at how peaceful and noiseless the mansion was when classes were taking place. He was also annoyed that the kitchen was devoid of life apart from the obvious presence of none other than Risty Wilde, in all her purple-haired, rebellious glory. She stared at him with scrutiny as he got himself a soda from one of the top cupboards. He had every belief that the girl was here because she had managed get out of class somehow.

"Wagged?" John asked lightly, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.

"Me? Cut classes? Never," she said almost imperially but her apathetic expression told him all he needed to know. "What about you, Allerdyce?"

John raised an eyebrow. "You know my last name." His voice was blunt. It wasn't a question.

Risty snorted. "Maybe I wouldn't have remembered if it weren't for Xavier announcing it to the world yesterday."

_He did?_ John gave her a strange look and tried to discern any hint of a lie in her voice. He was pretty sure the professor never once mentioned his full name to anyone. Ever. But he decided not to push the matter with this girl. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how and from _whom_ she learnt his last name from anyway.

"Heard about your little fight last night with that Ice mutant in that chick's room—what was her name? I forgot. Anyway, yeah, heard about it. What the hell was that all about anyway? Heard you guys wanted to murder each other."

"First," John began, teeth grinding in irritation, wondering how the hell everyone knew about the fight between him and Bobby, "Her name's Rogue. Second. Drake and I did not want to murder each other. Third. Nothing happened, okay. The end."

Silence followed. And then Risty shrugged nonchalantly.

_What the heck._ John sighed collectively, his earlier feelings of impatience dissipating, and dropped into the chair next to Risty.

"You haven't seen Rogue by any chance, have you?" he asked after taking a long drink from his soda.

Risty's eyes met his and she looked at him for a while.

"She's probably still sleeping, judging from events last night," she said finally, "I'm sure it got intensely hot and heavy last night," she added slyly, "Poor girl must be all worn-out."

John nearly choked. _What? _"You wish," he muttered darkly. _You wish._

"Hmm?" Risty inquired.

"Nothing," John said hastily and decided to change the topic, "So, what do you do anyway?" he asked, remembering that Xavier hadn't exactly been too descriptive of her mutant gift.

"Me? Like, as in my _powers_?" she asked, looking away almost thoughtfully but at the same time sounding almost uninterested by the subject, "I'm what you might call a _minor_ shapeshifter. They call me 'Foxx'. Like, you know, that animal. Sly as a fox. That's me."

John raised an eyebrow, yet again skeptical. "Shapeshifter huh? Y'know, I used to know another mutant shapeshifter myself."_ Mystique. Raven. Mystique. _And his thoughts wandered over to the blue-skinned mutant whom he had allied himself to the moment he joined Magneto's Brotherhood.

"Oh really?" Risty said, not sounding too amused. She checked her nails lazily. "I thought _I _was the only shapeshifter that ever existed."

"Well, I thought she was too. Until I met you."

Risty snorted, and then asked, "Was she like, really cool?"

John looked at her. Odd. Was she just feigning interest? Seemed pretty apparent.

"Yeah," he replied after awhile, "she was awesome. Don't know where she is now though. Last time I saw her, she… took the Cure. Yeah."

Risty tilted her head to one side, seemingly surprised. "Why the hell would she have wanted to waste such extraordinary powers?"

'_She had no choice,'_ John wanted to say. Well, she didn't really.

"That's just absurd!" Risty went on hotly, "An abomination!" she almost seemed to yell. Her eyes suddenly flashed with anger but John didn't know who the anger was directed at or why she was furious in the first place. _Maybe she has the same ideology as Magneto_, he conceded, and then realized that he himself would've been outraged at _any_ mutant as well if they had taken the Cure—like when he had been genuinely upset that Rogue had taken it.

In the distance, somewhere vague and remote, the school bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. And as though a switch had been flicked, the quiet peace of the mansion was instantly transformed. Desk and chairs could be heard being scraped across the floors and students' voices filtered down corridors.

It was almost like an indication to take his leave.

"I've gotta' go," John said, standing and tossing his soda bottle into the bin with careless aim.

Risty shrugged, "Yeah, cool. It's been fun talking to you, John."

He only nodded once in her direction before leaving the kitchen. The way she had said that last sentence… John was yet again hit by a wave of familiarity that emanated from this girl. He was _so_ sure he recognized her from someplace, somewhere.

Well, whatever. He didn't really care.

He ran into a couple of recognizable faces on his way to Rogue's room as well as plenty of unfamiliar ones. He nearly walked into Jubilee who was carrying a large stack of books, he passed Piotr who greeted him mutually, and he briefly encountered Bobby who only gave him a nod of acknowledgement and nothing more.

He finally came to her door and knocked.

"Who's there?" came Rogue's barely audible, muffled voice--as though she had her head buried in her pillow and was deeply annoyed at the disturbance.

"Pyro."

Pause.

"John?"

"Yeah. You awake?"

"I am now. You can come in. Door's not locked."

_She doesn't sleep with her door locked?_ _What the hell?_ Yes, this was a school. Yes, it was probably _safe_. But still…! He was going to have to talk to her about that.

He entered the room quietly and just as he thought, Rogue was lying in bed on her stomach, head buried deep within her pillow. The way the rays of light filtered down on her through her window made her seem almost angelic, her white lock of hair illuminated silver by the sun.

"Morning," she mumbled even though she knew it was way past morning and that the school had already been dismissed for the day. "What brings you here?"

John shut the door behind him and leant against it, crossing his arms to survey the girl before him. "I've been looking all over the damn building for you. Should've known you were still in bed." He smirked.

Rogue looked up blearily for a second.

"Sleep deprivation," she answered. There was sarcasm in that voice somewhere but the corners of her lips were twitched upwards in a small smile.

John grinned. "My fault. Sorry," he apologized. Then he looked around, spotting the conspicuous burn marks on the opposite wall. "Sorry about your room too. I just didn't feel like turning into a Popsicle last night so I had to defend myself."

"Mmmhmm. He's at fault too," Rogue mumbled. She didn't mention his name, but John knew she was talking about Bobby. Obviously.

He wondered whether he should tell her…

"I gotta' ask you something. Last night, while I was hiding and Drake came in, you were telling him about how-"

"He and I can never ever be 'just friends' anymore?" She shifted her position, lying on her back to stare at the ceiling.

"You're serious."

"It's true," she said bluntly. "There's no faith between us anymore, no _trust_. Nothing can rebuild that. Nothing. I've still got pieces of him trapped in my mind and even _they_ are fading." Pause. "Can we just not talk about this?"

John nodded once. She still got upset when the topic of Bobby arose. Not that he could blame her.

It was a characteristic silence between the two of them now.

_A very uncomfortable characteristic silence._

And it grew.

And grew.

Until John couldn't take it anymore.

"I had a dream about you last night," he blurted. And wasn't even sure why he said that.

Rogue sat up.

"Is that something I should be worried about?" she asked.

He blinked, not knowing what she meant by that, but he decided not to take any chances. "It's not what you're thinking, if _that's_ what you mean," he said hastily. Why the hell was he getting all flustered? Over this?

No way would he even think of dreaming _that_ up. Well, yes? No! Maybe… But that's not the point!

"Actually, it was more of a re-living of the incident at Drake's house. And you were there; took all my powers and everything."

"Oh," she said softly, looking down at her bed covers.

She seemed… disappointed? Upset? Well, whatever it was, she sure as hell wasn't _happy_.

_Way to go, Allerdyce. Bring up the topic of her deadly mutation, why don't you?_ John silently reprimanded himself as he eyed her watchfully.

"Actually, forget it. Didn't mean to mention it. I know how sensitive this-"

Rogue waved her hand dismissively in the air, seemingly indifferent. "No. Doesn't matter. After all, it's something I've got to live with for the rest of my life," she said, deliberately avoiding John's eye. It was a curse. _Her_ curse. And she believed that it was going to stay with her forever.

She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and sighed. "I can't touch people. Yeah. I'm bloody untouchable. And I can live with that I think. Whatever."

He wasn't stupid. Her voice was bitter and she was lying. She said it didn't matter but it _did_. She acted like she didn't care but she _did_. She did she did _she did_.

But she also did one thing.

She had _given up_.

And he could hear the defeat in her voice.

John walked over to her slowly and sat on the edge of her bed, looking into her eyes gravely.

"You can't just give in to it like this, Rogue."

She snorted. "Who said anything about giving in? I touch people, I kill people. It's that simple."

_It's that simple. Isn't it?_

And it happened so fast that Rogue didn't see it coming. John had leaned in and caught her lips in his, effectively surprising her. Her eyes went wide with fear but she didn't break the kiss. She wanted to push him away but she couldn't.

She was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to comprehend, as his lips brushed against hers, and she was terrified. She felt as though she were burning. Burning, burning with such intense heat. She felt _so_ terrified--for John mostly, but for herself as well--and at the same time, she felt something else. Something else and she didn't know what it was. She was exhilarated. She could _feel_ him and she felt herself _melt_… Melt with the heat emanating from him—his skin, his lips, his tongue, _himself_.

And she finally realised what it was she was feeling. Bliss.

And John was the person who gave it to her.

Then, she felt it all too soon—the intensifying pull of her power, rushing to claim fire through skin—and she realized she was doing so much more than just _feeling_. She was absorbing him. His power, his memories, his emotions, his _life_.

But he didn't stop even as he felt himself go weak and cold. It was Rogue who finally pulled away quickly. She didn't want it to end it. But she didn't want to kill him. The kiss had hardly lasted ten, or even five, seconds. But that was enough for her to take, and probably even more than what John could.

Her head was overpowered by so many vague but stark, obscure yet blatant sensations of different memories and emotions.

She looked at John in fear, wanting to ask him if he was alright. He didn't _look_ alright. He looked exhausted, drained, breathing heavily… And his face was ashen and pale.

"John…" she began, not really knowing what she was going to say.

But she didn't have to say anything. John beat her to it.

"See?" he said triumphantly with a weak smile. "You're not untouchable, Rogue. You never were." He staggered to his feet.

She stared at him, her mind a muddle of chaos and confusion, and brought her fingers up to touch her lips in wonder.

John made it to the room door with almost no difficulty. Almost.

"I think I'll go lie down now," he said quietly. "I'll see you later. Or something."

As he sauntered out, Rogue was left alone in her room, contemplating every single second of the unbelievable experience that she had just shared with John Allerdyce.

---

_-A/N-: Okay, this chapter took me forever to write. I even got a migraine part way through it. So, yeah. My brain's dead now. At least I managed to incorporate a few faintly obscure scenes that could've been plenty amusing to some._

_Apparently, Ellen Page and Ben Foster hooked up with each other while filming X3. Yes, that was my excuse to put Kitty and Warren together in the games room (grins)._


	13. XIII: Rift

_-A/N-: I'm sorry this is such a short chapter. School's becoming a bother and being sixteen ain't fun._

---

Dinner that night was abrupt and the dinning hall was unusually empty save three unlikely people. Jubilation Lee was sitting with her legs daintily crossed right next to Piotr Rasputin, who looked unbelievably massive sitting beside the petite Asian girl. To the left of Jubliee, John was indiscreetly wolfing down his dinner as though he were ravenously hungry causing the other two to stare at the famished mutant.

Whatever he had been doing today must've taken a toll on this guy, Piotr decided as he turned back to start on his spaghetti.

Jubilee was, as usual, busily chattering away, making a scene about her favourite movie; or something along those lines--the guys weren't really paying very much attention. After awhile, she got somewhat annoyed with John.

"John! I swear, if you stuff yourself anymore you'll like, _die_. Or…" Jubilee's voice went down to a whisper, "… get _fat_," she affirmed, nodding towards John sagely as though it were the worst thing that could ever happen to someone.

Piotr raised a skeptical eyebrow but John only grinned.

"Do I look like I might get fat anytime soon?" John asked, looking down at his lean, near-scrawny self.

"No, but-" Jubilee began but something moved on the far side of the room causing her to pause. Someone had entered the dinning hall, seemingly quiet and hesitant.

As soon as the words died in Jubilee's mouth, the other two looked up from their food to see Rogue standing at the far end of the table looking somewhat tired and uncertain at the same time. Without a word, she sat down heavily in one of the chairs furthest from the three and helped herself to a piece of white bread from one of the bread baskets.

She was acutely aware of the stares she was receiving but decided not to say anything.

"You're unusually quiet today," Jubilee noted. "Actually, I haven't seen you all day for some strange reason. What've you been doing, Rogue?"

Rogue gave Jubilee an insipid smile, trying hard all the while to avoid John's intense gaze.

"What've I been doing?" she repeated her question. _I've been thinking about the guy sitting beside you, that's what,_ she wanted to say. But she just settled for a half-shrug and told her she'd slept all day.

"Lucky you. I had classes today," Jubilee made a disgusted face, "Stupid Miss Munroe. I hate her sometimes."

Rogue gave her a weak smile. It was true. Ororo Munroe could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. But then again, she was so much better than having someone like the Professor or even _Jean Grey_ as a lecturer. They could tell if you weren't paying attention in class or even chewing a wad of gum right at the back of the classroom. At least with Storm, you could almost say she were _blind_ compared to those telepaths.

Then again, Jean Grey's dead now. Gone. Killed by Logan and effectively set free by the one person who loved her.

Rogue was jerked back to reality when John spoke. A question directed at her.

"You're okay. Right?" he had asked he, voice quiet but detached.

_Am I okay? Am I okay! What about **you**? _She wanted so much to retort, to snap back. But she didn't. Instead, she just nodded. "I'm okay. Just… not quite feeling myself at the moment."

Which was true. She was in no way feeling herself right now. It had been, what, _months_ since she'd last touched a person and absorbed their life essence? After the false charade that was 'The Cure', she had almost forgotten what it felt like to rob someone of their powers, their memories, their personalities, their _feelings_. And that very afternoon, she was reminded once again just what she was capable of and as a result, her head was a mess.

"You sick or something?" Piotr asked, concerned.

Rogue shook her head, "I'll be alright. Just feeling a little warm."

She glanced at John and caught his eye. This should be normal, right? Well, she didn't remember feeling this feverish after touching John at Bobby's almost a year ago. But maybe that was because she took Bobby's powers as well.

"As long as you're not burning up," John said then, "'cause if you are then something definitely ain't right."

"Yeah, poor thing. I hope you aren't getting a fever. You must be like, pushing yourself too hard. Anyway, what was I saying before I got interrupted…" Jubilee thought for a few seconds before it snapped in her brain, "Of course! We're having a movie night after dinner! I like, planned it all! It'll be just like old times… Just us and some of the other older seniors." Pause. "'Cause I _really_ hate the new kids."

Rogue was immediately reminded of Pietro. And Jasper Noel. And Risty Wilde. Wait. Who're _they_? She's never even met them. Rogue shook her head mentally, suddenly remembering that she had most of John's memories within her.

"The problem is," Jubilee continued, "I have no idea what movie we should watch. Horror? Comedy? _Romance_?"

"The Hills Have Eyes," John answered immediately, "Horror."

Piotr's eyes widened in alarm. "Isn't that the one with er… that Emilie de Ravin girl from _Lost_? And, and… oh, I forgot his name. It's the one where they kill all those murderous, mutated freaks, right?"

"Actually, I was thinking Goblet of Fire," Jubilee went on, almost totally ignoring him, "But whatever works for you, Brotherhood Boy."

John rolled his eyes. "I told you to stop calling me that!"

Rogue snorted, nearly choking on a mouthful of bread. "Brotherhood Boy?"

"My new nickname, apparently."

"What?" Jubilee protested, "It suits you _perfectly_! Y'know, I'm just happy we've got you back on our side again."

Rogue glanced over at John, who only stayed silent at Jubilee's comment. She didn't need to have touched him to know that he still wasn't ready to give up on his previous beliefs just yet.

Walking away from the other side was one thing. Abandoning his previous perspective was another.

_I'm just **happy** we've got you back on our side again._

_I'm just happy we've got **you** back on our side again._

… _I'm just happy we've got you back on **our** side again…_

And Rogue knew that John still wasn't sure where he stood.

---

_-A/N-: Short. I know. And nothing really happened either… Apologies! I just wanted to post this because I felt really behind time in updating. At least in the next chapter, they'll be watching The Hills Have Eyes and getting very freaked out._

_I'm already contemplating character deaths for this fic towards the end. Shocking. Some of you guys are pretty sharp in reckoning that Risty plays a bigger part than what's actually revealed. For those who want a heads up, go Google 'Risty Wilde'. (Hint, hint.) _

_And to **EvilEyeKat**: Awesome! You know who 'Foxx' is! Bravo!_

_Huge thank you to **Dementa, fallen angel, Kari Lynn Craine, UltimateRider, jade598, EvilEyeKat, yaba, **__**Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, **__**PsYcHoThErApY17, **__**Obiwanfan, **__**the sillylittlepanda, **__**secondrate**__**, xLiLix**. Your reviews were greatly appreciated._


	14. XIV: Tribulations

_-A/N-: I liked writing this chapter._

--

That night, they all sat in the dim semi-darkness of the living room in front of the plasma screen television. A few months back, just after the catastrophe at Alkali Lake--after a few of them had gotten over the death of Jean and the betrayal of John-- the school had taken the liberty to improve the facilities on behalf of the mutant students, thus endowing the common living room with the overly large, almost theatre-sized flat screen. Which, not surprisingly, took up half the wall.

Jubliee, Piotr, Rogue, John, Kitty and Bobby were crammed into that one living room, occupying chairs and couches. Also, to everyone's disappointment and annoyance, the silver-haired Pietro Maximoff was there as well, after vehemently insisting that he wasn't too young for the horror movie and that he had every right to watch it.

"You heard me, woman. I get to watch this as much as you do," Pietro stated audaciously in a tone of voice that managed to make everyone else in the room shoot him a dirty look.

"Fine. Then just keep your mouth shut," Jubilee half-screeched, tired of the kid's frustrating impudence. She set the bowl of freshly popped popcorn on one of the side tables unceremoniously and grabbed the DVD of The Hills Have Eyes.

Pietro meanwhile, promptly threw himself onto one of the long sofas, just in between Bobby and Kitty, who looked at him with mirrored expressions of disbelief and fleeting anger. Piotr himself had gone over to a lone chair and sat himself down, draping his arms haphazardly on top of the armrests.

That left the last couch for two. Which John and Rogue shared.

"I heard this movie's really freaky," Kitty murmured into the darkness to no one in particular as Jubilee popped the DVD into the player. "And the way they portray those mutants as murderous, mindless, crazy people…" she gave her head a small shake, "that's just wrong. And insulting-"

"Shut up and let us watch the damn thing already!" Pietro snapped impatiently.

Kitty glared at him and Bobby growled.

"Hey man," John started, fingers reflexively reaching deep into his pocket. He'd had about enough of Pietro's cheek and was more than ready to give this punk of a roommate a good telling off - one that would probably include more than a few profane swear words, and involve someone being lit ablaze. He felt Rogue's gloved hand grip his arm lightly as a sign to let the moment go.

Fortunately, the film started just about then and everyone's attention was diverted to the television. Jubilee crawled back from the screen but remained on the ground, leaning up against the long sofa that Bobby shared with Kitty and Pietro.

Silence befell the mutants, and the horror flick commenced. Rogue was pretty surprised at the choice of movie that John so readily picked. Maybe it was because she didn't think John, the ever-fearless Pyro, had been one to watch horror films. In fact, she knew that he'd never watched one in his life and that this was his _first_. She knew he enjoyed the action and adventure type movies where something usually explodes and goes up in flames. And she also knew something that the others probably did not; that he didn't mind watching films of the romance genre.

She knew a lot of things about him that many people did not.

And she was fine with that.

Somehow, it made her feel special to know that she would probably be the only person to ever know John on such a personal level. It made her feel closer to him somehow and she owed it all to her powers of absorption.

So it wasn't such a bad thing after all, having her mutation. It was still a curse to her, yes, but not all a bad curse. Not all.

As the movie dragged on, Rogue grew restless. She wasn't paying full attention to it anyway, even when it came to some seriously disturbing scenes sprinkled full of blood, violence and gore. She was having strange thoughts running through her mind instead.

John noticed her uneasy restlessness and somehow knew that it wasn't the movie that was causing her to fidget and squirm. It was something else. He instinctively reached his arm out and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in and leaning her head against his own shoulder.

And this gesture on its own was enough to cause the fire within Rogue to flare up. She could feel her heart speed up erratically, or could it be John's?

The oppressive warmth within her still remained. But she didn't exactly dislike the gentle heat. It was something straight out of John's very body and it was resting inside her, like something lively and overwhelming, fiery and passionate.

She knew exactly what was said between John and Bobby the previous night. But she didn't fully understand what happened.

Her eyes flickered briefly towards Bobby and then she glanced up at John beside her, his fingers gently brushing her on the shoulder. _Comparing them both is like comparing pitch black to stark white_, she told herself silently, _forever different no matter what--friends or enemies. They'll always be the opposite of the other_. Rogue smiled to herself._ And I'm probably the shade of grey in between, sometimes more towards white, sometimes more towards black._

When they were finally finished with The Hills Have Eyes and the credits started rolling, Pietro decided to share his opinion on one of the characters in the movie to everyone.

"That was just plain stupid!" the teenager stated blatantly, "That Doug guy is so _stupid!_"

Jubilee groaned. "Shut up, Pietro. He's not stupid," she said, glaring at him from the floor, "Actually, he's kinda' hot. In a cute, scruffy way, kinda'. He's played by someone called Aaron Stanford or something. He's awesome."

"And you're crazy," Pietro muttered, getting up and stretching.

"_Hey_, who the hell d'you think you're calling crazy? I mean, _hello_? I'm sure even Kitty and Rogue agree with me that Doug's hot. Right, guys?" Jubilee turned to look at Kitty, then at Rogue.

Kitty laughed and nodded, causing Piotr and Bobby to roll their eyes.

"Yeah, he is I guess," Rogue said off-handedly, not really caring in the least.

"You kidding me? Him? _Hot?" _John snorted in what seemed like feigned incredulity.

An unfriendly sound resonated within jubilee's throat.

"Okay, alright. Fine. He doesn't look too bad," John said, giving in and then smirking, "But if there's _anyone_ who's hotter than that Aaron Doug Stanford whatever-his-name-is dude, it's me.

_Pun not intended?_ Rogue wanted to ask. But she was pretty sure that it was intended. So charmingly typical of John Allerdyce.

"Careful, Johnny," Bobby said to John then with mock forewarning, "you might actually get too hot and one day explode. I swear."

John reached within the popcorn bowl and grabbed a handful of the remaining popcorn, flinging the fluffy pieces at Bobby.

_There it is,_ Rogue told herself. _As though they've never had a falling out. _

"Jeez. And here I thought you two like, hated each other or something, after that fight," Pietro drawled. Rogue had the distinct impression that he wasn't just talking about the fight in her room, but the one where they went all-out against each other as well. The one she didn't see because she wasn't there.

Since when did Pietro see that?

"Since when did we not hate each other?" Bobby said in response to Pietro's question.

John smirked.

"Guys, it's getting late," Piotr mumbled with a yawn.

Rogue tilted her head to stare at the wooden clock that was mounted to the wall with bleary eyes. It was exactly ten.

Jubilee made a grab for the remote control to switch the television off but accidentally flicked the channel. The late night news flickered onscreen and most of their eyes were immediately drawn to the headlines displayed behind the newsreader at the moment.

'**Dangerous Mutant Still at Large'**

Rogue consciously felt John's breath catch. _Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large._ And she knew what was coming.

The newscaster's voice was dull and bland as she spoke.

"Mutant criminal mastermind by the alias 'Magneto' is once again, at large. He had been cured by the anti-mutagen weeks ago at the war zone at Alcatraz Island. However, now that it is ascertained that the so-called 'Cure' is only temporary, this man," a picture of Erik Lensherr dressed in white and looking old and weary was displayed behind the stoic newsreader, "is still highly dangerous. Currently, the federal police are striving to ensure that Magneto will not get a chance to attempt to resurrect his once sizeable organization of extremists," the picture of Erik was replaced with an unfocussed, low-quality picture of some of the members of the Brotherhood, "No one wants another war with Magneto's mutant army."

_No._

All of them turned to stare almost apprehensively at John, who had suddenly fallen silent and cold. Detached. They were looking at him as though they were seeing him for the first time.

All accept Rogue, who couldn't bring herself to look at him. She wanted to tell them to please stop looking at him like that and turn the stupid news off. She had been put in a similar spot before, when they announced on the news that the Cure wasn't authentic, and she was sure the looks they were all giving him were affecting him as much as it had affected her.

Bobby glanced away and coughed uneasily, snatching the remote out of Jubilee's slack fingers and promptly switching the television off. And Rogue was grateful. So, maybe Bobby knew as well how conflicted John was at the moment.

It was a nice thought. But Rogue didn't know what to think right now. Just awhile ago, John had been far from downcast. Now, he seemed despondent, with his eyes glazed over, deep in thought but not really thinking at all, looking almost vulnerable.

And no one ever thought of John as _vulnerable._

He stood slowly and their eyes followed him, curiously (Jubilee), amusedly (Pietro), piteously (Bobby), skeptically (Kitty), inquiringly (Piotr). And Rogue dying to scream at them to fucking cut it out.

"I think I'm gonna' get some… air." John said monotonously, voice bleak. "Don't wait up."

And without another word, not even a simple 'good night', John left. And everyone, including Rogue, felt the perpetual heat that surrounded the room disappear with him, leaving all of them cold.

She knew that his last statement was directed at her because he knew damn well that she would be the only one to go looking for him.

"Do you think he'll go back now, to the other side? Now that he's back?" a hushed voice rang through the silent room. Rogue wasn't sure who said it. Didn't _care_. All that bothered her was the fact that this revelation on its own made them want to _judge_ him, with no rational thought on how he actually _felt_. Who were they to be so judgemental?

WHO WERE THEY?

A metallic candleholder flew across the room and hit the wall with a loud crash. Kitty screamed. Everyone looked around wildly. Bobby, for a fleeting instant, thought that Magneto was _in_ the room with them.

"What the hell?" Pietro screeched.

Rogue was breathing heavily, looking as taken aback as the rest. But the anger she had felt before had evaporated and turned into perturbed disbelief.

"Did you do that, Rogue?" Bobby asked her shakily--the first time he'd said something to her in a while.

Rogue only continued to look at the dent in the wall and then at the candleholder on the ground, now misshapen and bent out of shape. Finally, she gazed down at her gloved hands.

"I… I don't know."

-

John Allerdyce threw the front doors of the mansion open, greeting the darkness outside appreciatively. He knew he was probably breaking one of the more major rules of the school—going outdoors after hours. But he didn't care. If he had so readily set fire to the toilets in the past - scratch that – if he had so readily joined the 'dark side' in the past, what could they do to him for simply just sneaking out?

The night was chilly but it didn't worry him. He had spent half his life fending off the cold.

As he neared the familiar courtyard where the two gravestones were placed—Jean Grey's and Scott Summer's— with every intention to just sit himself down and clear his head, he caught the memorable smell of burning tobacco in the wind.

Someone was already there.

Slowing his walk, he wondered if he should just turn around and walk back before that someone knew he was there. However, he had no time to do even that.

"Who's there?" came a gruff voice from the shadows, "Don't make me come after ya."

It was Logan.

John silently cursed at the man's heightened senses.

_Should've known, what with the smoking and all._

But what was he doing here?

"It's me," John said evenly, stepping in front of Logan who was sitting on a bench in front of one of the gravestones. John glanced back—Jean Grey's gravestone.

"It's a little late for you to be out here, don't you think?" Logan said, looking hard at the boy.

"Yeah, well. Don't think I really care. Slap me with a detention and get it over with. I just want to be alone right now."

Logan stared.

John looked back defiantly.

And Logan shook his head. "I don't give kids detention," He closed his eyes and took a long drag from his cigar, "Never believed in that sort of crap."

John raised an eyebrow. With Logan smoking, he was sure the man would be setting a pretty bad example to the students. Not that he cared or anything.

"So, what's eating you?" Logan continued, glancing at John from where he sat.

_You,_ John wanted to snap, but thought better of it. Sitting down next to the man indifferently, John decided to ignore the Wolverine's question totally.

"You got another one of those?" he asked in a voice that everyone knew belonged not to _John_, but to _Pyro_.

It was Logan's turn to lift an eyebrow, as if to ask, _you smoke? _And if John were to tell him the truth, he would have said 'yes'. No matter how much he tried to kick the habit.

"You know, I shouldn't be handing out cigars to students like you. Charles would flip."

"I know," John replied uncaringly.

Logan smirked and silently took out a second cigar and handed it to John.

"Need a light?"

John glared.

"Sorry. Stupid question."

Logan was silent as he watched John draw his lighter and flick it open, lighting the end of the cigar skilfully. As John shut the zippo nimbly, Logan wondered to himself how long the kid himself had been smoking.

The both of them mutely took a couple of deep puffs before anyone said anything.

"You didn't answer my question," Logan said languidly, flicking the ashes off the butt of the cigar. He could tell that the kid was troubled, no matter how well he was trying to hide it. Logan could almost smell it. "The thing on the news got to you, huh?"

John's head snapped up, his eyes flashing. "How the hell did you know _that_?"

Logan gave John a smug smile and tapped his ear.

_Liar_, John wanted to say. No way in hell could he have heard the television from out here.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Logan said, leaning back on the bench and looking up into the sky.

"And why do you care?" John spat.

Logan glanced at John with a frown. "I don't," he said shortly.

The night seemed to grow colder. John didn't care.

"Each man to his own problems," Logan said then, more to himself than to John.

John nodded and took a short drag. He was pretty sure that Logan was thinking about Jean Grey. _Must've sucked to have been the murderer of the one person you loved._

"But seriously," Logan turned to look at John, "about the brotherhood and Magneto, I hope you don't think of doing something foolish."

John looked grimly at the Wolverine. _He didn't understand. Logan could never understand._

"Magneto told me that I was a God among insects, you know?" he confided quietly, "When I joined the Brotherhood, he was more of a father figure to me that anyone had ever been.

"Huh," Logan grunted and let the boy continue.

"And he trained me, him and Mystique, to be able to fight and use my powers without restraint."

"Why am I not surprised?" Logan said dryly, recalling the way Magneto and Pyro had rained flaming cars on all of them almost a month back.

"They made me who I am today," John said, ignoring him.

"Bullshit," Logan growled immediately. "That's bullshit and you know it, Pyro. They trained you, yes. They raised you for a few months, yes. But they sure as hell didn't make you _you_."

John looked up, startled, into the stern face of Logan.

It was then that Logan stood and threw his cigar to the ground, stepping on it hard.

"I'm going," the man said gruffly, "Don't stay out here too long. Don't want Chuck to kill me."

He started to walk off, but not before turning back to say something else.

"Just remember, kid. _They_ didn't make you who you are. No one can do that." Pause. "Besides, I don't think they ever taught you how to fall in love. _You_ did that."

And before John could say anything or even _think_ anything, Logan had left with a small smile gracing his lips.

John glanced at the cigar in his hand thoughtfully. And then slowly put it out with a single thought.

--

_-A/N-: The Hills Have Eyes. I'm surprised not many of you know that Aaron Stanford starred in that as well. He looks so stunningly unrecognisable though. In a scruffy way. But I reckon he looks awesome either way (as both Pyro and Doug)… Hmm, cookies for **Cheetah girl 15, The 42, we-r-the-cure, xLiLix, PsYcHoThErApY17, Jess **and **the sillylittlepanda** for picking that up!_

_Also, in response to **we-r-the-cure**, Risty Wilde isn't Mystique's rival. Where'd that come from? (Is confused) If you really want to know who she is, go visit my website (on my profile page) where I give out little hints for this fic. Oh, and she's not going to die. Or at least, I never once intended to kill her off. Sorry those of you who got that impression. Must've been the way I posted that Author's Note thingy._

_Hugs and kisses to **Dama Jade, jade598, Cheetah girl 15, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, The 42, we-r-the-cure, xLiLix, Anon, PsYcHoThErApY17, yaba, Obiwanfan, UltimateRider, Jess** and **the sillylittlepanda **for the reviews._


	15. XV: Detached

_-A/N-: Sorry for the wait. I had a little problem called 'school'. _

---

The fact that he told her _not_ to come looking for him made her worry so much more. She knew he could handle these things on his own—he was daringly independent like that. She knew he always had regular conflicts with self-judgment—although no one really took notice of them, or maybe no one actually _knew_. But her.

Despite all that, she still couldn't bare leaving him to fend for himself, no matter how strong he was on the inside.

If anything, Rogue knew that people like that were easily broken. She'd been there before.

When he had left the room, like a silent shadow, making it so damn clear that he wanted to be left alone, she was afraid. She was scared for him. The second he left her sight, she felt the very heart of the fire within her go out. Like it was smothered over by something ghostly and unseen.

And then someone made that disgusting comment. Asked that repulsive question. One she never wanted to hear from _anyone_.

_Do you think he'll go back to the other side? Now that he's back? _

And those very words had affected her more than it would probably have affected John if he'd heard it.

Maybe it was just her. Maybe it wasn't. Whatever it was, something had flared up within her. A strange emotion that she wasn't at all familiar with. It was nothing like the insane wrath of fury that she stole from the Wolverine himself, nor the passionate heat of rage that belonged to Pyro. It was something she'd never felt before—a bitter, cynical anger that felt almost… metallic?

She didn't know if there was a word that even existed that she could use to describe it.

But then the candleholder smashed against the wall. All by itself. And it sort of clicked in her mind that maybe 'metallic' was the best way to express it.

But the question was… _how? _

Rogue wasn't all that sure she wanted to know the answers just yet. For all she knew, the Cure could've done something to her, causing her 'dormant' powers to emerge in an unstable surge.

Whatever it was, she didn't quite care. Bobby asked her if she did it, and she said she didn't know. Even though she knew the truth—the reality behind the lie. There was no other way to explain what happened.

And perhaps Bobby knew too. Because he was the only one in that room at the moment who knew the people she'd touched in the past.

Meanwhile, Pietro was examining the dented candleholder.

"Damn, just look at it," he said, holding it up for everyone to take in. Pietro himself was looking at the metallic object with what seemed like disdain. "It's been totally trashed!"

Kitty had walked up to the wall and put a shaky hand against the many large, spidery cracks that were left by the impact of the candleholder. "What did this?" she whispered.

"Nuh-uh. I think the question here is: _who_ did this," Pietro nodded, waving the lengthy item in his hand with more force than necessary.

"No one here, that's for sure," Bobby replied, almost too quickly.

Rogue caught the glance that was aimed at her.

_So, he did know. _

"Oh, I wouldn't be so certain about that," Pietro said smoothly.

"Whatever. Forget about the thing. We'll explain everything to the Professor tomorrow. It's late. You should be in bed," Bobby said pointedly to Pietro. "You too, Jubes."

Jubilee shrugged and rubbed her tired, double-lidded eyes.

"Good idea. I'm actually pretty tired," Kitty mumbled, backing away from the wall and heading towards the door. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. 'Night."

Pietro scowled, staring after Kitty, who had just exited the room. "Who needs sleep when you-"

"Pietro, just g_o_," Bobby snapped impatiently.

All attention on the candleholder was completely forgotten as everyone shuffled out of the room—Jubilee helplessly, Piotr without complaint and Pietro grumbling audibly.

"I swear," Bobby muttered when the room was finally clear, apart from him and Rogue, "that kid deserves to get skewered by Logan."

Rogue, who had been silent all the while only smiled feebly. So Pietro _did_ tend to get on everyone's nerves. Including the nerves of someone as tolerant as Bobby.

He was looking at her through the semi-darkness and she felt awkward just being there, so she tried to make a move towards the door to indicate that she was leaving.

"Rogue? Wait, "Bobby's voice was quiet, "Are you okay?"

Rogue looked up at him and then looked away just as quickly. "What do you mean 'am I okay?' Of course I am," she lied.

She didn't know why she was putting on an act, like she didn't know what he really meant. It made her feel like she was running away from the truth.

"You know what I'm talking about," Bobby said, crossing his arms unsmilingly. And Rogue could see the unhidden concern in his crystal-blue eyes – a look that she was so familiar with when they had been more than 'just friends'.

She sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Bobby. It's just… so many things are happening now. First my powers came back, then Magneto reappears, and now _this_," she gestured helplessly with a gloved hand, "I just don't… _can't _talk about it. I know what you mean but… just… not now."

Bobby looked at her for a while before nodding. "Okay," he conceded, knowing when to change the subject, "So, are you uh… going to look for John?" he asked hesitantly.

"He doesn't want to be found."

"Yeah. He's like that occasionally," Bobby admitted, and Rogue was reminded of the times when John had so obviously made it known that he wanted everyone to fuck off and get out of his life.

"But," Bobby continued, "I doubt I understand him as much as you do."

"No, you don't," Rogue muttered, turning to leave, "and sometimes, neither do I," she added. And Bobby could have sworn he saw the look of dejection in her eyes for a split second.

Bobby stared after her retreating form. And then finally made his mind up.

-

He heard cautious footsteps from behind—the rustle of grass and dead leaves under heavy shoes.

He didn't need to have heightened senses to know that someone was approaching him. And rather hesitantly at that, too.

"So, you finally found me, huh?" John said without turning around.

He heard a collective sigh from somewhere behind in the shadows and John raised an eyebrow. He knew that sigh. And it was definitely not who he was expecting to come looking for him.

"Yeah, I found you. Well actually, I passed Logan down the hallway and he told me you were out here trying to 'freeze yourself to death' as he put it."

John turned in his seat, an eyebrow still raised, to look over at Bobby.

"Never did understand that man's sense of humour," John admitted languidly. "If I wanted to freeze myself to death so badly, I would've just needed to piss you off." John turned back to face Jean Grey's stone monument, "which isn't all that hard to do," he added.

Bobby shook his head and circled the bench, the grass crackling beneath his feet.

"Maybe you should go back inside," Bobby said once he was face to face with John. Logan had been right about it being chilly out here and although Bobby couldn't care less about the dropping temperature, he was pretty sure John wasn't enjoying himself too much in the biting cold.

"Well, give me one reason why I should," John retorted.

"Well, for one, you're probably gonna' get hypothermia or something," Bobby said astutely.

John laughed. "You forget, Drake. I'm _Pyro_, remember? Py-ro," he enunciated slowly, "I thought you already had that figured out."

Bobby resisted the urge to roll his eyes and failed. "Well, whatever, you fire freak. That's not the only reason why you should get your ass back into the mansion. Rogue's worried about you."

John glanced at Bobby. "You talked to her?"

"Yeah. She didn't say it. But I could tell she's really concerned about you and she seemed really upset about the whole thing on the news." Bobby made sure to steer clear of the words 'Brotherhood' and 'Magneto'.

"She doesn't have to be," John mumbled, staring down at the two cigars on the ground. Bobby noticed them too and gave John a quizzical look but didn't comment. "She doesn't have to be upset," he repeated, "I don't want her to carry my burdens."

"What the hell, John. You can't keep going around thinking you can manage on your own. Sometimes I wonder why she even gives a shit about you. And then I realise it's because she cares about you and it's so damn obvious that she loves you," Bobby grated, "So if you feel the same way, stop thinking you can handle things by yourself and think about other people for crying out loud."

John was taken aback by Bobby's sudden outburst. It wasn't because this was one of the few times Bobby had used a hell load of swear words, but because Bobby had implied that Rogue loved him and that he was acting like such an idiot for not letting her in on his trials and tribulations.

_Oh, my God. She must be really cut that I told her to stay away from me after the stupid news on the stupid TV. _

"Drake? You're right."_ I shouldn't be such a self-centred dickhead._ "I'm such a fool…"

Bobby grinned then, "I know, 'Dyce," he said amiably, "You are."

John rolled his eyes. "Haha, Drake. You're funny."

"Yeah. Anyway, now that that's cleared up, I've got to tell you something. I think something's not right with Rogue's powers…"

---

_-A/N-: Ahh, the Bobby-talks. He really adds depth to the whole trio-friendship-thingy. It clears things up heaps. Ryro next chapter. Risty Wilde next chapter. Pietro vs Pyro next chapter and yeah, lots of stuff'll be revealed next chapter. Because I feel like being nice to you guys (actually, I feel like I owe you some action). Woohoo. _

_Review please._

_Thank you **PsYcHoThErApY17 **(I really loved your review!)**, we-r-the-cure, the sillylittlepanda, Kari Lynn Craine, Dama Jade, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Psyc0gurl0, yaba, Obiwanfan, UltimateRider, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, Cheetah girl 15, Erik's Secret Admirer, xLiLix** and **dhfreak06** for the reviews…_


	16. XVI: The Charlatan

_-A/N-: Revelations of the pretender._

---

The very moment John's dark eyes twitched open from his deep, uneasy sleep, he first noticed the searing sunlight that filtered straight down upon his bedspread, illuminating his pale skin. He blinked twice, clearing his head. He finally took notice of the faint and indistinct noises of school-related activities and exhaled silently.

For all the days he'd already spent at the mansion since his return, he still expected to wake up thinking he was still in the company of the Brotherhood - as though returning to the school had all been a dream.

A long, long dream filled with familiar faces and nice memories that he never had whilst with Magneto's faction of radicals.

But it wasn't a dream, and those vague noises of the mutant institution that he had once grown accustomed to in the past had proved it.

He was up all night yesterday, watching some horror movie with the others whilst sitting beside Rogue. The intoxicating smell of her hair still lingered with him, and he didn't want it to ever leave.

Then he remembered the news, and his conversations with Logan and Bobby. And they had both made him realise one very important thing: Marie D'Ancanto meant more to him than any other thing in the world. Even Magneto and his Brotherhood of Mutants.

As John climbed out of bed, he was almost certain that Charles Xavier knew he was awake, because seconds later, a voice resounded in his head. A voice that belonged to the Professor, of course.

'_John, if you would be so kind as to meet in my office as soon as you're done what you're doing. Ororo, Hank and I need to confer at some length with you.'_

And he knew he should have anticipated something like this to happen sooner or later. Taking an unhurried step towards his closet, absentmindedly noticing that Pietro's bed was once again empty that morning, he made it a point to take his time in preparing for his rendezvous with Storm, Hank and Charles Xavier.

-

John knocked once on the wooden door to Xavier's study before entering without waiting for a response. He was greeted by the Professor and a blue, furry man-creature, who were both seated across from each other at the large mahogany desk.

"John, you're here," Xavier said, stating the obvious. "This here is Doctor Hank McCoy, Secretary of Mutant Affairs," he paused to gesture at the blue mutant, "And because of his, ah, peculiar outward appearance, he has adopted the alias _Beast_."

_I wonder why,_ John thought dryly to himself.

"I believe, under different circumstances, that you've both seen and heard about each other," the Professor smiled, like the epitome of patience that has forever clashed with John's personality of impulsiveness.

The blue man turned in his chair to fix John with a piercing gaze. "Well, if it isn't Mister Hotshot, pyromaniac of the twenty-first century himself," the Beast spoke with an absolute straight face.

John made it a point to stare right back with hardened eyes. He didn't want to be seen as someone who'd back down from a fight. Ever. He'd seen this mutant before—both on the news and at Alcatraz, thrashing Magneto's _'pawns'_ into oblivion. But this was his first time ever being so close to this _Hank McCoy_.

"Tell me, young fellow," Henry continued, adjusting his glasses sagely, "what kind of joy did you find in setting flying cars on fire and nearly killing all of us in the process?"

John's eyes narrowed, feeling almost affronted.

… _What?_

He was used to being on the receiving end of such gutsy comments from some of the students here who used to know him before his changeover. And that was understandable_. This_ coming from the Secretary of Mutant Affairs however, was uncalled for.

"Hank," Xavier said warningly, "I would appreciate you not trying to dishearten the boy with your harrowing remarks."

The Doctor grinned, his wrinkled, blue face suddenly alight with easygoing kindliness.

"I was only pulling his chains, Charles."

"I know. But I doubt very much that John welcomes your opinions on his past decisions."

John wasn't sure whether he should be annoyed with Xavier for speaking as though he weren't even in the room, or whether he should just be amused.

"Sorry," Hank McCoy said then, turning back to John with an apologetic smile, "Let's try this again shall we? I'm Hank McCoy," the Beast stood abruptly and extended a hand, "call me Hank. Or Beast. Or something other than _Henry_."

"Pyro," John said shortly, shaking the man's furry, blue hand curtly. He liked using his mutant name to assume authority and confidence. At least it gave him self-assurance among these two men. "What are you doing here anyway? Don't you like, have to attend stupid conferences at the White House and discuss _Mutant Affairs_ with your various other diplomats whilst busying yourself with stacks of papers like you're meant to be doing?"

Hank looked hard at John for a few moments before replying. "Just because I work as the official Secretary of Mutant Affairs doesn't necessarily mean I can't visit my old friend Charles Xavier if I ever wanted to. I used to be an X-Man, you know?"

"I figured that part out myself," John replied idly.

"Brilliant," Hank said, settling back down into his leather-backed chair, which creaked and groaned under his great bulk. "Now Charles, when did you say Ororo would get here? She's late."

"Yes, most unusual for Storm to be late," Xavier muttered, "but she'll be here. Nothing to worry about."

"And why am _I _here?" John cut in, impatiently. He was never tolerant with the Professor, although he knew he should ultimately be grateful that the old man had been so forgiving towards him.

"You'll find out as soon as Storm gets here."

And as if on cue, Ororo Munroe breezed into the room.

"Sorry I'm late," the white-haired woman said briskly, "had a small problem with one of the students during class."

Xavier smiled understandably. "Miss Vidette, I believe?"

Storm nodded, "She tried to translocate water. It ended up drenching Jasper Noel. I had to clear that mess up."

"Yes. Well, take a seat and let's not hold young Allerdyce here up any more than we should."

Storm glanced once at John before taking her seat, while Xavier began talking.

"I believe you've heard the news about Magneto's return to power."

That had been directed at John, obviously. And he didn't really know how to respond just yet. Too quick a direct answer may prove to be a wrong move. So he decided to play it safe.

"And?"

Xavier leaned forward in his chair to take a better look at John. "How has this affected you? Do you plan on going back?"

John was ready to swear that he felt the man before him probe his mind for deep secrets that he knew he never even had concerning the issue.

"Why ask me when you already know the answer?" John's voice was flat. He wasn't sure if Xavier knew of the talk he had last night with Logan, but he was sure Xavier knew the answer to the question that he had posed seconds before.

The Professor was smiling openly. "I may know the answer, yes, but for the sake of the two other people in this room…" he gestured to both Storm and Beast meaningfully.

"No," John replied immediately. "Don't plan on going back. At all."

And that was the truth. Or at least he wanted himself to believe that it wasn't a lie. It wasn't like he hated Erik Lensherr or anything. He respected the man more than he would ever admit to respecting Charles Xavier. He liked Magneto because he was headstrong in his beliefs. Magneto would do _anything_ to get his way, be it the massacre of the human race, or the manipulation of other homo superior mutants. Magneto _didn't care_, as long as he got what he wanted. Xavier, on the other hand, had a completely different ideal towards achieving a similar goal.

"It's wonderful that you don't plan on running after Mister Metal again," Hank said cheerily, "It's still intriguing that you thought about joining him in his conquest to bludgeon the human race. I hear that he's an exceptional strategist."

John quirked an eyebrow, not in the least bit amused. What McCoy said was true though. Magneto was a brilliantly talented strategist. And when Mystique had been with them, they were an unstoppable duo of dangerous deceit.

"Have you taken some time to think about the offer I proposed?" Xavier questioned, almost nonchalantly. But John wasn't fooled.

In truth, he hadn't really thought about it since the fight he had with Drake the other night in Rogue's room. Being one of the X-Men… What did it take?

"Think you're up for it?" Ororo asked, talking to him for the first time since she entered the room. Her voice was calm, gentle even. And John believed that maybe even _she_ had forgiven him for his past transgression.

He thought about the other X-Men. Rogue… Bobby… And perhaps Kitty and Piotr as well. But then he thought about Scott Summers and Jean Grey. Logan? Ororo? Them too. And Warren had agreed to be one just a few days ago. Hank McCoy had been part of the team once…

But the one person who registered in his mind was Rogue.

Rogue. Rogue. Rogue. Marie.

That was all it took to decide. He didn't believe he needed any more time to think this through.

"I'm in. I accept the offer."

Xavier nodded, smiling as though John had somehow passed an unspoken test. And maybe in a way, he had. And maybe, in a way, Xavier knew how he truly felt. About Rogue.

"Fantastic, my boy. You've made a good choice. Leather would look great on you," the Beast said innocently.

John was sure he was pulling his chains again, but he only shrugged. Hey, maybe he _did_ look good in leather.

"This is indeed good news," the Professor said then, "And we welcome you with open arms, John. Now, before you go," he looked over to Storm, "I believe Ororo here has something that belongs to you which she wants to return to your possession…"

The woman walked over to John and placed a familiar item in his hand. His wrist igniter. The one that Magneto had given him all those months back. The one that Storm had taken off him on his first day back here.

"It's yours to keep now. You can use it in Danger Room sessions and what not. Just don't abuse it," she gave him a pat on the back. "Oh, and it's great to have you as a fellow team member, John."

A few more words were exchanged before John finally made his way out of Xavier's study. He was sure he didn't imagine the silent voice in his head as he walked out the door.

'Keep her safe…'

_I will_, John promised. More to himself than to Xavier.

He navigated his way through the corridors of the mansion. The wrist igniter felt awkward and uncomfortable in his palm as soon as he strapped it on. But he knew he felt the same way about it when he first tried it on all those months back. Took him days before he became fully accustomed to it.

But he got it back and that's all that mattered.

As he rounded the corner, her heard two separate voices, growing intensely louder with each step he took. It sounded like a heated debate was taking place. Stepping around a second corner, he finally found the source of the disturbance.

And he didn't like what he was seeing.

-

Rogue wasn't at all sure what happened. One minute, she was walking down the hallway towards the games room, and the next, she found herself being knocked over by a speeding blur.

She stumbled painfully.

"Hey, watch where you're going, dammit!" the said speeding blur yelled, picking himself up from the ground indignantly.

Rogue was visibly annoyed when she finally recognised who that voice belonged to. Pietro Maximoff. _Figures_.

"Well, sorry for not seeing you. I mean, I _so_ should've anticipated a kid such as _you_ to come barrelling down the corridor like some homicidal maniac."

"Yeah? Well, just don't touch me, you freak. I know what you can do."

Rogue stopped short.

"Excuse me?" her voice sounded almost scandalized.

"You heard me. I know how you can kill people by _touching_ them. That's why you wear those hideously ugly gloves. Such a shame." Pietro sneered.

Rogue was furious, offended by his very words, and wanted to scream _how dare you_ at the boy's insolent disrespect. And it wasn't because he had called Kitty's birthday present 'hideously ugly' either.

"You take that back," Rogue said quietly, voice shaking with white-hot anger, fist clenched tight. "Take that back _now_."

This only earned a mocking laugh from the silver-haired boy. "You're a slut, that's what you are," he said, smirking, "or at least that's what you _want _to be, if you were able to touch someone without murdering them." And again he laughed. "You wannabe whore."

Rogue was so immersed in rage that for a few seconds, she didn't realise that someone had grabbed Pietro by the shirt and slammed him against the wall violently with such force that for a split second, the resounding crack that reverberated down the hallway made her believe that Pietro's back broke.

Not that she really cared if it broke or not.

And she recognised the new presence immediately. The fading, dirty-blonde hair, the familiar physique, the typical stance… John Allerdyce had come to her aid by physically assaulting Pietro Maximoff.

"What the bloody fucking hell did you say to her?" John's hard, steely voice was low with spite as he pushed Pietro further into the wall, if that were possible. "If I _ever_ hear you call her a whore ever again – screw that – if I ever hear you _talk_ to her again, I will kill you, understand? I. Will. Kill. You." He emphasized his point by lighting his wrist igniter mere inches from Pietro's face.

Pietro didn't need telling twice. As John unclenched his fists from the boy's collar, the speed demon made it a point to whiz down the hallway as fast as he could. But when he reached the end of the passageway, where he knew he would be safe, he gave one final taunt.

"You're an ugly whore!" he shouted at Rogue, "And Pyro is a bloody traitor. Just go back to your helmet-headed freak of a leader, you loser!"

"Son of a bitch!" John snarled, ready to run after the teenager and burn him so badly that Hell itself couldn't compare. But Pietro had already gone—disappeared around the corner and was already eating ice cream in the kitchens.

Rogue's anger had somewhat dissipated, scattered like tiny pieces as soon as John made his appearance.

He was still breathing heavily as he shifted his gaze from the end of the hallway to the girl standing just a little ways off from his side.

"He's dead," John muttered darkly. "He won't live to see the light of day tomorrow once I kill him in his sleep."

"He won't be sorely missed," Rogue assured, smiling weakly.

John glanced at Rogue, his voice softening. "You're not taking what he said seriously, are you?"

Rogue shook her head. "No," she replied.

"Good. Because you're not a whore and you're sure as hell not ugly. If anything, you're the most beautiful thing in the world, and I'm not exaggerating either."

Rogue blinked, and suddenly felt herself turn red."T-Thanks. And thanks for the help back there. The whole thing with pinning Pietro to the wall…" she said quietly, and was vaguely reminded of the time when John had been pinned to her room wall by Logan the other night.

"My pleasure. The kid had it coming," John replied.

Rogue was pretty sure John was going to have a long talk with Pietro tonight in the dorm room that they shared.

"Anyway, were you headed to the games room?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Wanna' go one-on-one with foosball? Or the X-Box?"

Rogue laughed. "Why not?"

They ended up at the foosball table after all, and John was winning by a mile.

"How'd you get so good?" Rogue fumed, light-heartedly, "Did you like, have one of these somewhere within the lair of your Brotherhood headquarters?" she joked.

"Nope," John grinned, "But I did live with a master strategist for about eight months," he said, scoring another goal.

"Of course," Rogue muttered, stepping around the table to retrieve the miniature soccer ball from below.

Just then, someone came running, full-pelt, into the games room. John, thinking that it was the infamous _speed demon_ again, inconspicuously stuck his foot out, meaning to trip the kid.

It worked, to say the least. But it wasn't Pietro Maximoff that tripped.

Risty Wilde's eyes widened in horror as she stumbled over John's outstretched leg, arms flailing, and crashed straight into Rogue. Rogue didn't exactly see this coming and didn't have time to move out of the way. As both landed on the floor hard, and had the wind knocked out of their lungs, Rogue felt the skin-on-skin contact between her and the purple-haired Risty Wilde.

And within seconds, she was absorbing Risty's powers.

Only, she wasn't sure whether '_Risty'_ was even her real name, as bizarre memories of the shapeshifter invaded her own. And as the next few seconds passed and Risty screamed with such an unnatural voice that didn't belong to her, Rogue _knew_. She _knew_ even before the shapeshifter's skin flickered blue and eyes flashed serpentine yellow.

This was not Risty Wilde.

Because Risty had never existed.

John was standing with his mouth hanging open, but didn't look as surprised as he thought he would, because, as he recalled his earlier conversations with her in the past, it all made sense to him now. He should have suspected it.

Rogue pushed the weakened woman away hastily and stood up, panting with difficulty.

And then, she ran.

---

_-A/N-: For those of you who've read 'Rivers and Fireflies', thank you. And yes, they did die together._

_I do believe the next chapter will be interesting (hint!). Although I'm not sure how soon it'll be posted (because I spend way too much time doing Pyro icons and graphics on my website and I spend way too much time on school work)._

_And because I felt like communicating with you guys:_

_**PsYcHoThErApY17: **Hello, friend! I love reviews that go on and on and on and on (ramble if you must) because it makes me insanely happy that you have so much to say! I hope this chapter satisfied you and I'm glad you don't hate the way I portray Bobby Drake in this fic. Until the next chapter!_

_**we-r-the-cure:** THANKS for reviewing Rivers and Fireflies (and putting it in your favourites too!). Yes, I enjoy writing angst because I reckon it's the genre I'm best at. Well, I think so anyway. Well, I hope you liked this chapter!_

_**Obiwanfan:** Your review for Rivers and Fireflies made my day, did you know that? Hope you liked this chapter and didn't find it monotonous or anything…_

_**dhfreak06:** Howdy, my newest regular reviewing supporter! It's awesome that you love my story. And whoa… Do you love to say 'lol' after every sentence?_

_**the sillylittlepanda:** How'd you find the Pyro vs Pietro part? Haha. Pietro annoys me sometimes. But hey, it's me who's actually working his personality. Thanks for your review!_

_**xLiLix:** Whoa…… I must really have killed you for waiting for this chapter, huh? I hope the long wait has paid off. And I'm overjoyed that you're in love with this fic. Makes me feel uber-special. Your reviews are great! They help spur me on to write. Rock on!_

_Oh, and once again, to the rest of you reviewers out there, THANK YOU!_


	17. XVII: Deluded

_-A/N-: The world has gone crazy. And we're the only sane ones left._

---

She was panting hard by the time she reached Xavier's office. She didn't need to slam the door open because it was already ajar, as though she was being expected.

_Of course, this man was a bloody telepath!_

Nevertheless, she stormed in, disorientated and lightheaded with thoughts and memories that weren't quite hers running through her head. Her skin felt tight and looked almost a sickly blue to her eyes.

Mystique was in the mansion. Mystique was in the mansion with _them_.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she yelled as soon as the Professor looked up from his desk at her.

Xavier looked not the least taken aback at her sudden arrival and vicious outburst—as though it were all inevitable.

"Rogue, what is it that I didn't I tell you?" he asked calmly, steepling his fingers.

Rogue looked incredulous for a split second. Was he trying to test her patience?

"You know what I'm fucking talking about, dammit." Her voice was shrill to her own ears. "Risty Wilde. She's – she's _Mystique_!" She was outraged. He should have known. So how couldn't he have told them? Told _her? _And then she wondered: could _John_ have known too? She glared at Xavier, waiting for an explanation.

Xavier sighed. "My telepathic abilities were not enough to significantly probe into her mind," he said simply, "I was only able to recognize her powers as a shapeshifter. And then from there I knew who she ultimately was."

"That still doesn't tell me why the hell you didn't let us _know_!"

"Rogue, I understand…" Xavier began, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Mystique herself, still looking very much drained and weak from the absorption of her life essence—her blue skin looked much paler than normal, and her hair was still tinged purple from Risty's appearance. She leant against the doorframe for support, breathing heavily.

She looked about to say something but John appeared soon after, sidestepping the woman and striding up to the Professor.

"You _knew,"_ John said simply, glaring at the man.

"I thought you would have figured it out by now," Xavier said.

"Does it _look_ like I figured it out?" John asked scathingly.

"Obviously didn't train you well enough, then," Mystique said with a feeble smirk, "if you couldn't tell that little miss smart-ass Risty Wilde was _me_."

John spun around to face his former ally. _Ally? _John wasn't really sure what to call her. Nevertheless, she had been a mentor to him of sorts.

"Mystique," John acknowledged evenly.

"Pyro," the woman returned the greeting, as though they hadn't spoken to each other in years, "you're back with the X-Men I see."

"You've got your powers back," John said, ignoring her previous remark completely.

The blue-skinned mutant shrugged almost nonchalantly. "Had them for quite awhile now. Why do you think Risty even existed? The bloody Cure is definitely _not_ a cure," she mused.

Rogue eyed both Mystique and John wearily. And she was surprised how much she knew of what the both of them had been through whilst they had been in the Brotherhood. Maybe it was because she had both their fragmented memories and thoughts swirling around in her head. It was only when she pieced them together did she realise how much John respected Mystique, and how she respected _him_. And now, they weren't in the Brotherhood anymore, because John had come back and Mystique… Mystique… Rogue was overcome with feelings of betrayal, anger and melancholy from memories of the one they called Raven Darkholme.

"Raven," Xavier spoke then, "I think it's time we all had a chat with you."

---

"So. Why the hell is she here again?" Logan asked, none-too-politely, staring fixedly at Mystique.

They were all there: Storm, Logan, Hank, Xavier, Raven, John, Rogue and even Bobby… all seated around the study. Both Ororo and Hank didn't look too concerned that they had a dangerous ex-Brotherhood mutant sitting among them—although that could go with John as well—they probably already knew. And that made the rest of them pretty peeved at the Professor for not saying anything.

"Look, Logan. I only told Storm and Hank about this because they should know about her presence in the school," Xavier explained.

"And _I_ don't?" The Wolverine was incredulous that the old man had picked Storm and the Beast over him.

"You would have tried to kill her," John said bluntly, "And then everything would go to hell."

"Point taken," Logan muttered, shooting another murderous glare at Mystique, who had already regained her strength and agility prior to the calamity with Rogue.

"I understand," Xavier continued, "how you feel. I understand how _all_ of you feel. But I reasoned that since Raven hadn't been doing any harm, I didn't need to expose her."

"Well then, if she's not here to murder kids, why is she even in the mansion?"

"Logan-" Hank McCoy began, disapprovingly.

"_Hey_, are you implying she kills kids every chance she gets?" John's voice was hard.

Logan stared at John. "Why the hell're _you_ defending _her_?" he grated, then paused, finally realizing that he sounded real stupid, "Oh. Right. Brotherhood pals. Figures."

"I'm here," Mystique said loudly, shutting both Logan and John up, "because I needed a place to recover. At least until Magneto decides to show his face again. What better place to recuperate than Xavier's Institute for Mutants?"

John raised an eyebrow. He hadn't forgotten the little incident in the rear trailer where Erik Lensherr had turned his back on Mystique, and he was sure that she hadn't forgotten either. Didn't she, in any way, feel deceived by what he did?

"You're going back to him? After what he did to you?"

Mystique snorted at John's ignorance. "Go back? To him? _Please_. You were there when I was _cured_. I saw the look on your face too. Disbelief. That was what I felt when he walked out of there without even a single backward glance. No, I will never go back to him. What I want," she said, looking over to Xavier, "is to exact my revenge."

"So you plan to kill him?" the Professor's voice was quiet.

Mystique snorted again. "Who said anything about killing? Hurting him, maybe… A lot," she looked away slowly, "You must understand. I _trusted_ that man. I was _loyal_. And what the hell did he do to me?" her voice cracked.

"What you do to Magneto's none of my business," Logan growled coldly. "Charles, I want her out._ Now._"

Xavier stood, exuding authority. "Logan, like I said, I _know_ how you feel about this. But I would appreciate it if you ceased your overly headstrong intentions. Believe me, even Storm had the same reaction when I told her who Risty truly was."

"She's _Mystique_, for crying out loud!" Logan exclaimed, as though it were all that simple.

"She wants to stay," Rogue said then, quietly, and all heads turned to look at her. "She has no where else to go."

A frown appeared on Mystique's face, and then it slowly contorted into a smirk. "Having me in your mind doing any good?" she asked.

Rogue shook her head, but replied softly, "I'll cope." And she wasn't really sure whether she could. Because she was still having difficulty take in all of the woman's past.

"Miss Darkholme," Xavier said then, "If you want to stay, then stay. I'll ensure that no one here," he looked sharply at Logan, "tries to cause any difficulties. However, I trust that no complications would crop up. We are confident that you won't attempt to try anything while you're living here with us. We forgave John, and I'm sure we can do the same for you."

At that point, Logan had got up and stormed out of Xavier's office in disbelief and rage.

"Someone's not happy," Bobby muttered as all of them stared after the man's retreating form.

"He'll get over it," Mystique said, unconcerned, and she turned back to Xavier, who had once again seated himself back in his high-backed chair. "I guess I'll have to say thank you. For allowing me to stay. I'm grateful."

"Think nothing of it, Raven. This is an Institute to house mutants after all."

Mystique nodded with a smile, and Rogue was surprised at how far she was from looking like a cold-blooded murderer.

"Just one thing, Charles," the blue-skinned woman said, "Don't call me Raven. Or Miss Darkholme. It's '_Mystique'_. Just Mystique."

---

_-A/N-: She stays. Wow, looks like I'm introducing more and more characters to this plot (does this mean more characters are gonna' die in the end?). Anyway, this chapter had lots of underlying messages and implications, especially between Pyro and Mystique. But I think a lot of assumptions can be made._

_**The 42:** You are a saviour. Thank you so much for pointing out my little mistake. I've corrected it. And I really do need to get a BETA reader for this fic._

_**PsYcHoThErApY17**: I really, really appreciate your reviews! Thanks for reviewing 'Sanctification' too. Did I really make you nearly cry? Aww… I tend to like writing one-shot, angst fics. It's like an addiction. Can't.Stop.Writing.Them._

_**we-r-the-cure:** Pietro deserves to die. But I'm kinda' surprised that everyone hates him, because I've made him sort of like Pyro in a way (you know, his snarky, arrogant, I-don't-give-a-damn attitude). Haha._

_**Jamie:** Hey, you reviewed. I'm honoured. Haha. We should really have that X-Men movie marathon once X3 comes out on DVD. I'll stay over at your house!_

_**Dama Jade:** I admire both Xavier and Magneto as well. And their unwavering friendship albeit their separate ideals constantly remind me of Bobby and John. That is why I didn't like portraying Bobby as a 'jealous ex-boyfriend' because it just wouldn't work. I prefer John and Bobby to be friends instead of archenemies. Anyway, thanks for your review! And thanks for commenting on 'Sanctification' as well! It was a really emotional piece for me to write._

_Everyone else, thanks. The next chapter sees more Ryro and hopefully some angst._


	18. XVIII: Cat and Mouse

_-A/N-: The eighteenth chapter._

---

"Hey, Bobby? Have you seen the news this morning?"

Bobby looked up briefly from his glossy-paged magazine towards the doorway of his room where Kitty Pryde stood, looking anxious and more than just a little uneasy.

"Kitty. Hey." Bobby shut the magazine deftly after dog-earring a page that illustrated a picture of a snowboarder. "Uhh, no actually. What's up? Did something bad happen?" he asked.

Kitty was looking alarmed now and she shook her head quickly. "It's worse than just 'bad', Bobby. I think you better come see," she said gravely and her eyes flickered to the other mutant in the room, who had looked up from his own reading material at the sound of the apprehension in her voice. "You too, Piotr. You guys need to see this. It's awful."

---

Meanwhile…

"So, um, you two were… pretty close, I take it." Rogue's voice sounded sleepy even to her own ears. "You and Mystique I mean," she mumbled, shifting her body to make herself more comfortable but at the same time taking care not to get too close to the boy lying beside her.

It's been two days since the revelation of the rebellious _'Risty Wilde's'_ actual identity and now, Mystique was walking around in her true form—well, her _human_ form anyway—instead of in the body of a seventeen-year-old teenager.

Fortunately, almost everyone so far has been accepting of her presence in the mansion. Even Logan was warming up to her, albeit just a little slower than the rest. It wasn't hard to say that he was deliberately exuding his stubborn charm just to spite the woman. Two days now and at least he's managed to be able to remain in the same room with her without so much as shooting her a death glare every few seconds. And that's a huge improvement for someone like Logan.

At the moment, Rogue and John were both in Rogue's room—a place that they've promised to frequent just to talk about things ranging from everything to nothing. That day, they weren't quite so sure what happened, but the two of them found themselves sprawled on their backs, atop Rogue's tiny bed, staring at the ceiling. There wasn't much space for movement, but they liked it that way.

"We were close enough," John murmured, answering Rogue's question. "But I guess you should already have known that."

_Of course._

"Mmm…" Rogue was deep in thought for a few moments. In such a short time, she'd found out everything… _everything_ about what both Mystique _and_ John had believed in when fighting on the side that no one in Xavier's institute thought was ethical. There was a difference, of course. Raven Darkholme had been wholly willing to dedicate herself to the cause. To John Allerdyce, it was more to do with his freedom and the use of his powers without the frustration of being restrained. Rogue knew all this. And somehow, she understood. She empathized.

"She was like a mother I never had," John continued, "I mean, she would have made a better mom, anyway." His voice was distant, but Rogue could sense a hardness in that voice.

Rogue turned on her side to look at John. He was still staring up at the ceiling, as though trying to avoid her eye.

"Your parents-"

"They threw me out," he replied, cutting Rogue off. "Threw me out because they were scared," he gave a short laugh, "Their poor son, St. John Allerdyce, was not a saint. They thought I was possessed, using demonic powers to control fire. They believed I was… _different_. Inhuman. Or some shit like that anyway."

"You're not," Rogue said quietly, "it was evolution. We're not different. We're _special_." She didn't know why she was saying that. She'd never thought of herself as special. She'd never thought of her _powers_ as special. Just a nuisance. A curse.

"I know," John replied, "We're superior. We're better than all of them. Those bloody homo sapiens know _nothing_ about mutants."

Rogue was silent. There was nothing she could say to that. She didn't know _what_ to say.

"Sorry," John apologised when he noticed her silence, "Shouldn't be saying that. Xavier might decide to throw me out too."

"He won't," Rogue assured him. "I'll make sure he doesn't."

John glanced at her and grinned. "You'll defend me? That's real nice of you, Rogue. Does that mean I get to set things on fire and not get expelled? Like, Logan's hair for example?"

Rogue just rolled her eyes with a small smile of her own and playfully punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" John exclaimed, backing away, "Rogue! That's gonna' bruise. I swear."

Rogue snorted. "No, it's not!"

"It so is!" John complained, rubbing his 'sore' arm.

"No way."

"It will," John said, confidently. "But," he said, with a smirk, "I'm sure you can make it all better if you kissed it."

"Kissed…?" Rogue frowned for a moment in confusion. And then her eyes widened in realisation. "I am so sure it'll be much worse if I even _touched_ it," she said.

John sighed, sitting up and ruffling his hair. "I know, I know. You can kill me with your touch. But you know what?" he said, watching as Rogue herself sat up on the bed, "It kills me each and every time I am reminded that I can't touch you."

Rogue looked down mutely at her gloved hands and then she replied in a whisper, "It kills me too, John. It really does."

And it did. Rogue couldn't lie to herself. Sometimes, it frustrated her to no end that she couldn't touch _anyone_. It angered her. And sometimes, just sometimes, she wished that the Cure had been permanent. Just so she could have at least a single intimate moment with John. That would be enough for her.

"Yeah, uh…" John was talking again. "Bobby told me something." Pause. "Something about your powers acting up and-"

But before John could say anything more, the door to the room was flung open and Jubilee stepped in. Both John and Rogue were startled at this sudden intrusion and were almost ready to reprimand the teenage mutant. But something on the girl's face melted away all traces of irritation.

"Guys," the jet black-haired girl said solemnly, looking almost on the verge of tears, "S-something's happened. You… you two should come and see this… it's all on the news."

---

"What's going on?" Rogue wondered aloud as she, John and Jubilee entered the living room.

The crowd within the small, enclosed room was amazing, and there was something not quite right with the atmosphere in the room. It was heavy with something… Something that Rogue couldn't quite figure.

She spotted Storm, Kitty and Warren—wings drawn tight to his body—in deep conversation in a far corner of the room, partially obscured by other people. And something was not quite right with this picture. Jubilee had gone over to them as soon as saw them. A group of young mutants were gathered, whispering quietly among themselves, in front of the television and the headlines _'TWO DEATHS RESULT FROM EXTREMIST ATTACKS'_ were splashed across the screen.

_Oh my god… This can't be Magneto's doing…? _

Rogue's mind was racing as she quickly looked up at John. But his eyes were fixed on someone coming their way. Rogue followed his gaze. Bobby was walking up to them and he was carrying the day's newspapers with him. He looked troubled, upset even. And that scared Rogue.

"Hey," Bobby said quietly as he neared them, "guess you guys haven't heard." He passed John the newspapers, eyes unconsciously flicking towards Rogue.

Something was not right.

Rogue stared at John as he started scanning the article. The silence that followed was thick as both Bobby and Rogue waited for him to finish reading it. John's expression was unreadable as he went through it. At one stage, he looked up to glance at the spot where Storm and the others stood.

Something was definitely not right.

"What the hell…" John muttered, finally looking up at Bobby and refolding the papers in his hands. "He's dead. Warren Worthington II has been murdered."

Rogue tried to suppress a gasp of horror. _Warren's father… is dead?_ She couldn't believe it. This had to be a joke. Right? _Right?_ She looked again to where the angelic mutant stood, so isolated and away from the crowd in that corner, and she realised that he was crying. And so was Kitty. And Jubilee.

"He can't be dead," Rogue's voice was only barely above a whisper.

Bobby shook his head sadly, "Happened hours before sun-up this morning. Someone broke into Worthington Labs and stole a sample of the Cure. The man tried to stop him. Was killed instantly by an explosion. They think it was a bomb. And the culprit got away."

"Who… who did it?" Rogue asked, hesitantly, although she didn't really want to find out. She didn't want to be seen as someone who'd directly blame Erik Lensherr for every calamity that cropped up.

"It's not Magneto," a womanly voice from behind them interrupted Rogue's wearisome thoughts, "if that's who you're thinking."

The three of them turned in unison to find Mystique, looking at them amusedly, but Rogue could sense traces of unease behind her calm exterior.

"Raven-"

"Mystique," the dark-haired woman corrected Bobby haughtily before shooting a glare at John, "tell your friends to refrain from calling me _Raven Darkholme_ please. It annoys me."

"They call me _John_. And I don't mind as much anymore," John said, shrugging.

"Well, _I_ mind. Anyway, as I was saying, if you want to know who killed Worthington and that other girl, watch the news." Mystique gestured towards the television screen. "They're playing the video again."

Rogue blinked, confused. _Other girl? Video? _She turned to look at the TV where the news was still being broadcasted.

"Someone turn it up," John said loudly.

"…_registered mutant teenager, Tabitha Smith, was found dead just minutes from Worthington Labs late last night. This was shortly followed by the murder of Warren Worthington the Second after the theft of a Cure sample at the Laboratory. No one knows the cause of death of both the girl and the inventor of the Cure, however, both are said to be linked, as deduced from a recording of a video found next to the dead body of Mr. Worthington."_

The newscaster was replaced by the footage of the said video. It was a recording of a man, middle-aged with dark, greasy hair. His faded grey-blue eyes were hard but his face held the look of utmost superiority—arrogance and pride had swallowed the man.

He was speaking.

"_As you should know by now, I have broken into the building which houses the Cure samples. It may be the one of the most heavily guarded laboratories in the state, but to me, it was nothing." _There was a crackling of static as the man took a deep breath._ "It was unfortunate that Dr. Worthington had to die. He was in my way. And I didn't like that. I am fully aware that the Cure is only temporary. That is why me and my group of activists stole it in the first place. We plan to attempt to tamper with the Cure; make it permanent. I am the leader of this group, and we hate mutants. We will **eradicate** them. We do not want them here, defiling our country. We will wipe them off the face of this planet. And no one will stop us. Anyone who tries to do so, mutant or otherwise, will end up like the little girl we killed yesterday." _Pause_. "Mutants, beware. We **will** hunt you down. You. Are. All. Dead."_

The video was cut and the news presenter's face came back onscreen.

"_That was the footage of the video found next to Warren Worthington's dead body. The man in the video has been identified by state officials as a known criminal extremist by the name of Ezekiel Blacken. Mutants all over the country have expressed great concern towards this…"_

Rogue had long since stopped listening and was hit with a wave of disbelief. "No… no, no, no, no…" she said over and over again, shaking her head.

"Told you it wasn't Magneto who did it," Mystique said smugly, and Rogue couldn't help but feel just slightly outraged at her uncaring indifference towards the deaths of the poor mutant girl and Warren's father.

"Ezekiel Blacken…" John muttered, deep in thought.

"He's insane," Bobby said darkly with a nod.

"He's fuckin' crazy…" John agreed.

"Warren…" Rogue whispered under her breath, looking over to where her beautifully winged friend was, and took a step in his direction, wanting to go over to him and comfort him in some way. In _any_ way. But at that very moment, Piotr appeared at the doorway.

"Miss Munroe?" the huge mutant said uncomfortably as everyone turned to stare at him, "There's… someone at the front door looking for Professor Xavier."

"Piotr?" Ororo tilted her head in his direction.

"It's Erik Lensherr, Miss."

"Dammit," the weather-manipulator cursed.

Raven Darkholme was out of the living room as soon as Magneto's name was said.

---

_-A/N-: Every possible misfortune seems to be happening in this chapter, eh?_

_Oh. The bad guy has finally been introduced in this fic. And so, future chapters might turn just a tad bit action/adventure-ish. And oh my goodness, Warren's father is dead. I feel bad now._

_Anyway, here are my replies to some reviewers:_

_**Kari Lynn Craine** Logan is such an interesting character to write. Just because he gets so worked up about everything. Anyway, I can't tell you who's going to die in the end until the time comes. If I did, it'll be spoiling it for you now, wouldn't it? Haha. Be patient._

_**Dementa:** Where would Pietro be without Wanda? Haha, yes, Wanda's existence will play a part in this fic. It won't be a big part, but she is absolutely vital to the plot. It's interesting that you pointed her out though. It's like you plucked the thought out of my mind._

_**the sillylittlepanda:** Yeah, I can't believe that this was meant to be a one-shot either. I mean, SEVENTEEN chapters! I'm really proud of this fic. Thanks for your support! Because everyone has been such devoted readers, it really encourages me to update and make this fic one of my best._

_**storytellergirl:** Hey there, welcome aboard! I'm seriously honored that you've enjoyed reading this fic so far. Your review alone had made my day. I hope you liked this chapter!_

_Many thanks to the rest of you: **Chica De Los Ojos Cafe****, xLiLix, Obiwanfan, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, yaba, secondrate, rogueparker, ****PsYcHoThErApY17**and **Psyc0gurl0.**_

_Reviews are much appreciated!_


	19. XIX: Bloodlines

_-A/N-: Yes, yes. Sorry for the dreadfully long wait. I had examinations on the past week and that kept me busy for a while. Also, I've been making music videos and other random stuff, so yeah. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy._

**---**

A quiet hush befell the room—as soon as Mystique had left—like a veil of silence that seemed to smother even the softest of sounds. All that John could really hear at the moment were the low, pitiful sobs coming from Kitty and Jubilee over at the far corner of the room where they huddled with the bereaved angel.

Ororo Munroe pressed her fingers deep into her forehead in exasperation, cursed a second time and shot out of the room in Raven Darkholme's wake. Piotr only just stood at the doorway as she passed, looking all the more edgy and self-conscious. And then after a few short seconds, he left to search for Professor Xavier.

As though a switch had been flicked, a ripple of whispers were abruptly set off. Repeated questions centering around Magneto's sudden appearance at the doorstep to Xavier's Institute were echoed around the room.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was about to happen down at the foyer that faced the front oak doors. And John reasoned that if there was one person in this world that could prevent the impending confrontation between two of the people in his life that he considered remotely superior to him, it was John himself—the Pyro who stood beside them _both_ so many months back.

He had to do something. Had to see for himself if it truly was Erik Lensherr at the door. Part of him hoped that it wasn't. And part of him hoped it was. He headed towards the doorway, but not before giving Rogue an implicative look, almost as though pleading for her to come with him.

But she looked back at Warren with helpless indecision.

Warren, the fallen angel. It was funny, he thought, how little his father's death had affected him. But then again, the man was the inventor of the Cure—the same thing that got him murdered in the first place. He had forged his own death.

John looked into Rogue's distressed eyes and understood. He nodded. "Go," he said, "He needs you."

Rogue looked startled, "But…!" she started to protest, not really knowing what to say. And John shook his head.

"Don't worry about me," he muttered, unconsciously lighting and relighting his wrist igniter to check if it still worked. "I'll be fine."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

She gave him a fleeting smile. "I'll… catch up with you. Now go. _They_ need you."

Without another word, John ran out of the room.

_What the heck is he doing here anyway?_ John wondered silently to himself, a frown on his face.

He came skidding down main entrance hall and found Ororo and Mystique staring, or glaring rather, at an old man with greying hair who had just stepped in through the front door. Unmistakably the almighty Erik Lensherr. He looked somewhat odd without his usual red-and-black cape and typical Magneto garb. But this normalcy didn't make him seem any less patronizing.

The silence between them all was almost deafening and John could almost feel the uncomfortable intensity sizzling in the air. He didn't know how long they've been glaring at each other in this silent face-off and he was more than willing to bet that none of them had said a word to each other just yet. Mystique's eyes were the brimming with hatred, there was no mistaking that. And Magneto looked wearily at her, almost as though expecting her to attack him at any moment.

John did some quick thinking and decided to speak up into the still silence before Mystique had a chance to lunge at the old man.

"Hey, guys? Could we maybe cool it and talk this over? I don't think having a tussle in a school is a very good idea." John said lamely. What else could he have said? Have fun killing each other?

Ororo spun to look at John with dread in her eyes, probably wondering how she got into the middle of this unplanned reunion. Mystique's face twitched in annoyance at John's comment just as Magneto looked up in surprise as though he just realised that John was standing there at the end of the foyer.

"Pyro," he acknowledged, and John swore his deep voice held an unfamiliar tone of resigned exhaustion, as though he had finally given up his previous way of life. "Should've known you'd come back here. Pray tell me, is this the safe haven for all ex-members of the Brotherhood?"

"Why don't _you_ tell _me_ why I shouldn't kill you right now," Mystique snarled, her dark eyes flashing a dangerous yellow.

"My dear, please calm down. You have no idea how much regret I felt after leaving you behind."

"Liar! If I would have known, I wouldn't have jumped in front of you and saved your pathetic life. Now you tell me you're _sorry_?" Her voice held a strong note of incredulity. "You're all _lies_, Erik."

Magneto didn't bother to remind her that the Cure was only temporary. "Do I look like I would lie to you?" He was getting impatient and his voice was hard now.

For a second, there was only silence. Mystique was still seething with rage.

And then, they heard someone coming down one of the corridors that led to the kitchens, singing rather tunelessly to himself, unaware that there were four people at the front door who could hear him clearly enough.

"We are the champions, my friends. Weee'll keep on fighting till the… _what the fuck_?" Logan yelled, as he rounded the corner and came face to face with the bizarre scene before him. "_You_!" he growled lowly just as his adamantium claws extended with sharp a _snikt_.

Despite the circumstances, John couldn't help but shoot Logan a highly amused look. It's not every day that you hear the man sing.

"What the hell're you doing here?" Logan demanded, none too politely.

"Get out of here, you inferior ponce," Mystique snarled, this time at Logan. "This is _my_ fight. Not yours."

"Listen," Magneto said with a sigh, "I'm not here to cause any trouble."

"Really? 'Cause that's about the only thing you _can_ do," Logan said gruffly.

"I've come here to talk to Charles."

"Why don't you talk to _this_," Logan growled and launched himself at Magneto, claws in the air and poised for the man's head, although knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to reach him.

And he was right. Without even lifting a finger, Magneto managed to stop Logan in midair.

"I'm tired of all your foolishness. Don't try to test my patience," the metal manipulator said, voice steely but worn-out as he slowly lowered the Wolverine to the ground.

Logan grunted as his feet hit the floor.

"Try that again and you'll find yourself a few hundred feet out of the front door."

The Wolverine glared at Magneto but didn't do anything else. He knew when he was beaten.

"So, you said you needed to talk to Xavier?" John asked, looking at his former leader with newfound respect. "Should I go get him?"

"He's already here," Ororo spoke up, pointing at the five figures heading their way.

All of them spun to find Piotr, Pietro, Rogue, Bobby and the Professor walking towards them.

Magneto's eyes landed on the silver-haired mutant and his breath caught. Pietro Maximoff. Quicksilver. The one person he never thought he'd see in a place like this.

Pietro himself had stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Erik Lensherr in utmost disbelief and what looked like abhorrence. "It's _you_," he hissed, before screaming in fury and rushing up to the old man with amazing speed, knocking him to the ground and curling his fingers around the collar of his shirt.

"You murdering bastard!" Pietro shouted, voice travelling down the hall. "You killed her. You killed her, you fucking bastard!"

"Pietro!" Ororo shrieked, more in surprise and horror than anything else, but the screaming teenager didn't relent.

It was only when Piotr pried the half-hysterical boy off Magneto did he finally calm down somewhat.

Pietro was panting heavily, his eyes were hooded with disgust and what looked almost like imaginable hurt.

"You killed her," he said again, this time his voice was barely above a dark and low whisper, "You left her to die and now she's gone. Wanda's dead and it's all _your_ fault."

---

_-A/N-: Short, I know... But yay, Wanda Maximoff gets a mention! And as you can see (well, those who know about the Maximoff family anway), I've altered the original storyline to Pietro and Magneto's relationship. I suppose. But hey, this **is** the movieverse we're talking about._

_**PsYcHoThErApY17: **Thanks so much for the review, dear! They usually make me squeal and grin like a psycho. But that's beside the point. I'm really delighted that you've been following this series for so long. Makes me happy to know that there are so many other Ryro fans around, you included._

_**Kari Lynn Craine:** Hmm… Ezekiel Blacken's my OC that I came up with after weeks of contemplation and planning. He reminds you of Boliver Trask? Yeah, he kinda' does, doesn't he? And William Stryker. But there's gonna' be a huge twist to Blacken's character in the end. Can't tell you yet though!_

_**IcedBlaze:** Welcome to the Stranger series! And thanks so much for your wonderful reviews. Hmm… you aren't really a Ryro fan, huh? Hope I've somehow managed to convert you. Haha._

_Thank you to the rest of the reviewers: **QueenApailana, **_**_Chica De Los Ojos Cafe_****_, Obiwanfan, storytellergirl, _****_Mrs. St. John Allerdyce_**_**, xLiLix, the sillylittlepanda, yaba, we-r-the-cure, annie. **You guys are awesome._


	20. XX: Eradication

_-A/N-: I'm having my school holidays now. Yay._

**---**

To Rogue, time seemed to stand still for the longest moment. Almost every one of them, speechless from Pietro's intense outburst, had their eyes trained on either the silver-haired boy—who was still panting with difficulty—or the metal manipulator on the ground—staring up at the crazed boy, all grandeur leaving him in an instant.

The hatred radiating from Pietro was so strong that Rogue swore she could feel it from where she stood. Questions formed in her head that she hoped would be soon answered. _Who was this Wanda? Magneto killed someone that Pietro knew?_

"Okay, wait. Back up," Logan started finally, "Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on? Starting with why the hell that kid just tried to beat Magneto senseless?"

"He killed my sister," Pietro spat, answering Logan's question as though it were that obvious, while he wrenched himself violently out of Piotr's restraining grip and glared at the old man who was only just now picking himself off the ground. John made it a point to stand between the two, fingers ready to light his wrist igniter, in case the hot-headed mutant decided to attack Magneto again.

He had a sister? Rogue was surprised and couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the kid, who had, up till now, managed to make her hate him to no end. So Wanda's his sister. It made her wonder whether his cocky, arrogant behaviour was just a cover-up. An act to mask what he once was before the death of his sibling. 

"Pietro…" Erik Lensherr said, audible caution and a little bit more than disbelief in his voice, as though the boy before him were some dreadful apparition, "You're… I thought you were…" he struggled for awhile, "I thought you were dead."

"Well, you thought wrong," Pietro said with an embittered sneer, "the one you killed was Wanda. Or did you already forget? Some father you are."

"_Father_?" half a dozen voices echoed around the foyer, all of them mirroring tones of incredulity.

"He's your _son_?" John asked his former leader, perturbed, realising that he'd been sharing a room with the silver-haired mutant for days now.

"I am _not_ his son. Not anymore," Pietro said loudly, "he doesn't _deserve_ to be my father. In fact," the boy rounded on John, eyes flashing, "_You're_ more of a son to him than I ever was!"

"Pietro, that's not--"

"Don't you _Pietro_ me!" the boy yelled, his voice shrill. "I've seen you two on the news, working together hand-in-hand and killing people. Yeah, real fun, wasn't it?"

And it clicked. Rogue realised now why Pietro had been so disgusted with John from day one. _'And Pyro is a bloody traitor. Just go back to your helmet-headed freak of a leader, you loser!'_ Pietro was hurt, he felt betrayed. Even though his sister had been killed by his own father… John joining the Brotherhood and forming a bond with Magneto had been the last straw.

Erik was looking at Charles Xavier, or whom he _assumed_ was Charles, with helpless exhaustion now, a silent plea. The Professor, who had been silent all this while, gave his erstwhile friend a terse nod and spoke.

"Pietro, calm down. I understand that you're taking this extremely hard and you're not the only one here who feels that your father should be justifiably… _harmed_ in some way," Xavier gave both Mystique and Logan a sharp look. "But before we point the accusing finger, we have to be made aware of the both sides to your story. Why don't we start with yours. I'm sure many of us here would be interested to hear from you."

"What is there to hear from me? He left me and my twin sister to die! It's that simple!"

Xavier nodded, understandingly. "What did he do?"

"He left us to die in a psychiatric hospital after our mother passed away. And you have _no idea _what they did to us in that mental institute." Pietro said quietly, his eyes staring blankly into space as though reliving his past memories with an expression of pain and hurt. But there was no mistaking the anger and resentment in his voice either. "They did… things," he continued, "Back then, they knew little of mutants and thought we were fun to experiment on, I suppose. We tried to break out of there. We plotted our escape. It wasn't easy. We were separated. But we managed to finalise our plan. But something happened shortly after that and Wanda… she went insane. Before they killed us, I escaped. And now Wanda's gone. _He_ never once came back to help us."

"I didn't know!" Erik argued. "If I were to have found out, I would have come after you."

"Liar! You never once cared about us," the boy's voice rose dangerously to a crescendo. "All you ever care about is your stupid conquest against the homo sapiens. You're not my father! You never were!"

"Pietro—!"

But it was too late. The distraught boy had already sped out of the foyer and down the hallway in a blur with unmistakeable tears in his angry eyes.

An uncomfortable silence followed before Erik let out a sigh.

"That went well," he muttered, more to himself than to the people surrounding him. And then he looked wearily up at Raven Darkholme. "I hope you aren't _still_ planning on killing me. Strangely enough, everyone seems hell-bent on my murder."

"And for good reason," Mystique replied, crossing her arms. But she didn't seem to show any signs of wanting to harm the man standing before her anymore. Magneto took this as a good thing and said nothing further.

"Okay. You lost me," John said then.

Magneto sighed again. "If you mean what Pietro said about me being a poor father then I suppose he was right. It's true. I've neglected--"

"No, what I mean is _YOU HAVE A SON_?"

"Apparently so," Magneto replied dryly, "And, amusing as it is to all of you, I don't intend to talk about him for now." He turned to look at Xavier. "My, Charles. Is that really you?" he asked, looking the unfamiliar man up and down. "It's such an extraordinary thing, seeing you alive. Last I saw, you were obliterated by your former student."

Xavier gave the metal manipulator a small, weak smile, "Indeed, Erik. You're not looking too bad yourself."

"And you're looking like you're brand new. You've forsaken your trademark wheelchair I see. How does it feel like to be able to walk again?" Erik's voice held an odd note of bitterness that Rogue believed only she had caught.

"It isn't much different to what I remembered, Erik," Xavier replied. "But you know, I'll still always be me, my friend. No one else. This outward appearance doesn't change anything."

"Of course, of course," Erik said briskly, as though changing the subject. "And I suppose you never once intended to contact me when you took my son in."

"I assumed he didn't want to see you. I thought it would be better if you didn't know he was alive."

"You must think I'm a terrible father."

Xavier looked at him gravely, but not reprovingly. "Not so much terrible as ignorant, Erik. You weren't aware that they were sent to an asylum. It was never your fault."

Magneto nodded and spoke nothing more about his children.

"Anyway, I have come here to tell you a matter of great importance, not to exchange pleasantries and be verbally abused."

"I hope this has nothing to do with the man on the news who killed the young mutant girl and Worthington the Second," Ororo murmured.

"My dear, it has _everything_ to do with him. And more."

-

Minutes later, the X-Men, Mystique and Magneto found themselves in Xavier's office, listening to what Magneto had to say. Rogue stood close to John, the only person in the room who could really be considered to be on both sides, Brotherhood and X-Men.

"Mutant Eradicators, that's what they're calling themselves," Erik Lensherr said grimly, as though the very thought of such an extremist group disgusted him.

"Original," John commented as he wrapped an arm around Rogue's waist. Rogue could barely tell that he was nervous just by initiating this _very suave_ move. Barely. Actually, the both of them found it pretty comfortable.

"Their cause is the complete and total opposite of the Brotherhood's. And that's something to worry about, isn't it?" Erik continued, voice light but unable to hide the concern that his expressions never showed.

Charles was unduly troubled by these revelations. "They- these group of extremists—"

"_Eradicators_, Charles," Erik corrected, stressing the word, "They plan to kill every mutant on the planet."

"Sound familiar, anyone?" Logan asked dryly to no one in particular.

"Young or old, woman or child. Ezekiel Blacken plans to rid the world of people like us," Erik went on, ignoring Logan, "You saw for yourself, he killed a young mutant girl last night."

"And Warren's father," Rogue added quietly, voice hollow. John's grip tightened around her.

"Precisely," Erik said loudly, "They care not for the people who stand in their way. They plan to use the Cure as a weapon. And believe me when I say they hate the X-Men."

"These people. They plan to destroy us…" Xavier said, deep in thought, "How ever did you come across this information?" he looked back up at his old friend from his chair.

The magnetokinetic mutant gave Xavier a maimed smile. "I found one. He told me everything I needed to know, including their whereabouts, secret headquarters, and the like," he glanced up into the Professor's eyes, "Anyway, he's dead now."

Charles Xavier exhaled openly. He didn't need to read the man's mind to know how the extremist had died. The man was tainted with the taste of death.

"If this is true, we will have to stop them some way. Prevent this from happening. No mutant is safe from this group of morally corrupt killers."

"My sentiments exactly," Erik replied, "It's what we all want, isn't it?"

"You'll join with us for the cause then?"

"Whatever it takes to get rid of these cowardly humans," Erik replied.

"Whatever it takes," Xavier echoed, agreeing.

"Looks like we're going to have to work together as a team again, eh, Charles?"

Xavier nodded. "Indeed."

"You do _still_ know that no homo sapien is safe from me, no matter what the outcome, don't you?"

There was a slight pause on Xavier's part as he stared into Erik's sombre eyes for a long while.

"Yes," he said at last. "I _do_ know."

Rogue couldn't help but shiver at that. Something bad was about to happen. She could almost _feel_ it in her veins. And she didn't much feel like finding out what it was.

---

_-A/N-: This chapter was beta'd by the so-very-awesome **The 42**._

_And I promise you'll have more Ryro in the next chapter._

_And I shall reply to all the reviewers who reviewed last chapter. Because I love you guys._

_**we-r-the-cure:** Ah, singing!Logan. Instant comedic relief right there. And he's just so adorable when people try to put him down. At least in this fic he is, anyway. Thank you for the review! Oh, and I didn't know you were a Firefly person :)_

_**Dama Jade:** Tada! Now you know why Erik wanted to speak to Charles! And yes, at the moment, the Scarlet Witch is presumed dead. And as much as we all love her, I haven't had plans to bring her back… Although technically, Pie didn't see her die so it's possible she's still alive._

_**Kari Lynn Craine:** I never really tried to incorporate bits of the Evo-verse into this fic, apart from Quicksilver's smartass attitude (and even then, Pietro breaking down like how he did in this chapter doesn't really tally with the Evo-verse Pietro). But I really loved X-Men: Evolution! Anyhoo, thanks for the review! It made me go 'SQUEE!' as well._

**_PsYcHoThErApY17: _**_Haha, as soon as Mags stepped through the front door, everyone wanted to kill him. Mystique, Logan and Pietro. He's quite the popular chum, ain't he? Hmm… Your GCSE's are comin'? Gosh, good luck! Most of my friends back home (I moved) are havin' theirs soon too. Anyway, yeah, thanks for the review! I'll post chapter 21 ASAP._

**_Chica De Los Ojos Cafe: _**_Yep, Pietro knows that Mags is his daddy alright. Oooh. Now we know why Wanda wasn't with Pietro. It's really sad what happened to her. Aww…_

_**yaba:** Thanks for the review! Hope to hear more from you soon!_

**_Mrs. St. John Allerdyce:_**_ Thanks! I'll keep going!_

_**storyellergirl:** Sometimes I find that Mystique is a very misunderstood character and that she deserves more than what she got in X3. Oh, and Mags does seem to be changing somewhat too, huh?_

_**the sillylittlepanda:** Yep, Pietro, Wanda and Magneto make one big happy family! Well, not so much 'happy' as 'demented'. But anyway, yeah. Pie is Erik's son. And now we know why Wanda's dead._

_**BitterSweet Amusement:** I'm glad you still enjoy this fic. :) I'll hand you a cookie and some milk!_

_**Psyc0gurl0:** Rogue's powers going wonky… Hmm, there's something I plan to do about her powers, but one thing's for sure: They are seriously developing into something crazy and big. Hee, I'm happy that you find that this is one of the better Ryros you've read. I can't really say anything but… Yay! So very happy:)_

_**annie:** Thanks for reviewing! And awww… you don't really like Rogue? Why not? Hmm… I shall attempt to change your mind about that!_

**_tHe TrUtH aBoUt RoSeS: _**_Hello, friend! Ahah! Another person who found singing!Logan amusing! Awesome! And by the way, welcome aboard the 'Stranger' ship! May I take your coat:) Thanks for the review! Ryro conquers all!_

_**Lanfear1:** Hmm… You said I get cookies if I updated… (Grins suggestively) Thanks for reading and I hope you continue reading too!_

_**michellio:** Ooh. Another Ryro fan! (Or at least, I hope you're a Ryro fan) Thanks for the review! And I'm delighted that you're following this story. You get a cookie. (Hands you a cookie as promised). _


	21. XXI: Imprints of Fire

_-A/N-: BLAH. This chapter was re-written like, twice before I was even satisfied with it._

**---**

"Still can't believe it," Rogue mumbled, hugging the pillow in her arms tight, her legs dangling listlessly over the side of the single bed. Her voice was tinted with just the smallest hint of her southern lilt.

John, who was sitting up against the wooden headboard on Pietro's empty bed and clicking his lighter open and shut thoughtlessly, looked up at the girl who was lying on his own bed and hugging his pillow as though it were her own. He didn't think Pietro would mind so much that he was using his bed. Well, he wasn't even there and John reasoned that—technically—as long as the kid was clueless, he was safe. The speedster seemed a tad unsound at the moment anyway and the both of them had no idea where he'd been since running out on all of them after the talk with Magneto.

"Still can't believe…?" he prompted, finally lighting the zippo with skilful ease and idly making the flames coil up into the air. Doing this was pointless, he knew. Reason being he already had his igniter strapped to his wrist. But this particular lighter was special, and he didn't expect anyone except Rogue to understand that.

"Everything," Rogue replied after awhile, "There's a mass mutant murdering group on the loose who wants to kill us all, Warren's father is dead, Magneto's here and he's _staying_ in the mansion even though Mystique has reappeared two days ago." Rogue turned on her side to face John. "And what else? Oh yes, Pietro's dad happens to be Magneto, whom he hates… Along with you, apparently."

"I suppose the world has gone to the dogs," John conceded, his tower of flame dancing in mid-air like ever-changing fireworks. "But it's not like we can do anything about it." Of course, he knew that wasn't true_. There's always something we _can_ do._ But if John were to tell the truth, he just didn't want to get involved with it all. Not like how he got involved the last time. Not anymore. For all he cared, the world could crash and burn and go to hell and he wouldn't give a damn. As long as Rogue was safe and with him, he had everything he needed.

He looked back at the girl on his bed, allowing the pillar of fire to curl back into the lighter. She seemed… silent. Forlorn. And just a tad vulnerable at the moment.

"So," he said lightly, voice neutral. "How's Warren. Is he… gonna' be okay?" And he didn't really know why he asked her about Warren of all people. He didn't even know the guy. And his dad definitely had a huge price on his head during Alcatraz… _He had it coming, that guy, _he told himself inwardly.

Rogue took a deep breath and exhaled before opening her mouth to answer. "He's gone," she said simply. "Flew off to organise the funeral."

"Oh."

They lapsed into unornamented silence once more, both sunken in thoughts of their own.

John wondered what it was like to have a father. One that cared for him. His parents did him the favour of leaving him to fend for himself at a young age. They more or less abandoned him. And maybe Pietro _was_ right. Magneto was something like a father to him—a paternal presence in his life. _Sort of…_ Well, he was the closest thing to a father figure he'd ever had, anyway.

And then something struck him as odd.

"Hey, Rogue?" he said abruptly, "Shouldn't you have known that Pietro was Magneto's kid? You have his memories, don't you?"

It was a logical question.

Rogue was frowning. "Well, it never really occurred to me…" She paused. "I _knew_ he had a son, just… I suppose, like he said, he thought his children were dead and he just, well… he didn't forget about them I suppose—just maybe blocked the memories out or something." She looked somberly up at John. "He had a dark past, Magneto. I don't even understand half of it so I just try not to think about it half the time."

John looked hard at her, as though trying to read her. "Must be shit," he said finally, "to have people in your head like that."

"It is," she agreed with a smile that didn't quite mask her wry and emotionless voice. "I think Logan's the worse in there," she continued. "Like a caged beast, y'know? I have nightmares sometimes. _His_ nightmares. Can't help but feel sorry for him." She hesitated thinking. "And now that he's lost Ms. Grey…" she gave a helpless shrug.

John nodded, not knowing how to reply to that. He thought of the said man with the knife-like claws. He didn't much about the Wolverine's past—hell, he knew _nothing_ about him. But with the few conversations he had with the man who worshipped his cigars, John couldn't help but hold a less-than-grudging respect for him.

"He's a good guy, Logan."

"He is," Rogue agreed.

They were quiet once more. John realised that it wasn't often that Rogue spoke about the people in her head. _It really must be shit, _he surmised, taking back his earlier conviction of Rogue's yearning decision to take the Cure.

"Have you talked to them yet?" Rogue's gentle voice quite suddenly interrupted his thoughts with quiet reserve.

Them? 

John didn't need to be a telepath to tell that she was referring to the other Brotherhood associates in the mansion. Magneto and Mystique. "I've been thinking about it," John muttered, going back to snapping the zippo open and shut once again. "But no, ever since they've reappeared in my life, I haven't had a single personal conversation with either of them."

And he wasn't sure he wanted one either.

"Maybe you should," Rogue suggested. "I'm sure they must be pretty lonely in a place like this. And since they're not exactly on friendly terms with each other, they must need someone to talk to, y'know, without starting a shouting match."

John contemplated the idea, and it wasn't the first time he did it that day. It was true that the both of them, Raven and Erik, had no one who would be particularly sociable towards them if approached. Especially not Logan. _Definitely_ not Logan. John was the only one who could probably actually start a proper conversation with either of them. But he didn't know if they even _wanted_ to be approached. Maybe they were comfortable enough on their own.

"Well?" Rogue encouraged. "I think you should, John."

_Clink. Snap. _

John gave a small smirk. "I wonder. When exactly did you stop calling me Pyro and start calling me John?"

Rogue gave him a quizzical look before smiling a small smile. "Since you came back, I suppose. You got so worked up when I called you Pyro, remember? At the bus stop?" She looked away, up at the ceiling.

He did remember. And John silently recalled the day and the place in which they had met again after so long. The awkward reunion.It seemed so long ago now. And at first he had been quite sure that it was by pure luck that they had been brought together—some mere accident. But when he had seen her from afar, sitting there in the fading light of sunset like some lost, misplaced, beautiful angel… he wondered if maybe it was _more_ than just 'some mere accident'.

"I remember," John said slowly.

Rogue rolled onto her side and finally sat up, surveying the boy before her with interest. "So, which one are you?" she asked. "John or Pyro?"

He looked at her, almost amused, before giving her a reply. "A name's just a name. I'll go with anything you wanna' call me, Marie."

She jerked at John's use of her name.

"You don't mind if I called you that, right? Marie?"

She shook her head. "'Course not. In fact…" she toyed with the corner of John's pillow with a small twinkle in her eyes, "I'd like it if you did."

"Okay then. I'll be John, you'll be Marie."

"I thought you said I could call you whatever I wanted!"

John stared for a few seconds, and then smirked. "Right. You'll be Marie, I'll be whatever. As long as it's not _Brotherhood Boy_ or anything stupid like that. Jubilee's gonna' pay for that one."

"Deal."

And they both looked at each other, eyes filled with suppressed mirth. Once upon a time, the both of them had exchanged such pointless and meaningless banter. That was before John disappeared, before Rogue and Bobby became an item and turned their trio of friendship into a two-sided triangle…

"Speaking of the Brotherhood," Rogue said, "You didn't answer my question."

John tilted his head to the side. "You really want me to go talk to them?"

She nodded. "I mean, it's not like I like them or anything. But I know how close you were to them both. And I know that Mystique still holds you in high esteem."

For a second, John blinked, wondering how she would know such a thing. And then he remembered that she had touched Mystique a few days ago, quite by accident—his stupid fault actually—thus revealing Risty's true form.

"How's it like?" he asked her quietly, "Having Mystique's memories in there? Must've messed up your head pretty bad."

Rogue shrugged. "Only flashes of her more recent memories, nothing more. I didn't hang on to her long enough to really steal much."

John nodded, satisfied. "Well, as long as you're okay." He paused, thinking. "I suppose I _could_ go talk to them… for old time's sake."

"It's nice to see that you don't think of Magneto as your almighty leader anymore."

"Nah. He's more of a friend now I guess. Well, no, _friend_ doesn't quite cut it. I don't really see myself going up to him and saying '_yo, Mags! How's it hangin', dude?_' Nope. I think he's more of an acquaintance." He nodded to himself almost animatedly, "Yep. Acquaintance sounds about right."

Rogue grinned and threw the pillow across the room at the unsuspecting John.

"Hey!" John dropped his lighter and deftly caught the pillow, nearly falling off Pietro's bed in doing so.

"Oops. Accident," Rogue said innocently, or as innocently as she could because seconds later, John's pillow came hurtling past her, nearly missing her head. She spared no time for gloating about his bad aiming and made a move to scramble off the bed to grab the pillow off the ground.

But John saw this coming and flew off Pietro's bed and at Rogue. She gave a muffled shriek of surprise that came somewhere between a giggle and a squeal as she felt John's arms encircle her in a bear hug and flip her around on her back to look up at him.

"My pillow won't stand to be treated that way, you hear?" John said firmly with a smirk, pinning both her flailing arms down onto the mattress by her wrists, careful not to touch her skin but the smooth fabric of her gloves.

"You were the one who chucked it on the floor!" Rogue argued, laughing quite nervously now, deeply aware of how close they were.

John didn't reply and tried his hardest to look menacing, but failed terribly when a glint of amusement threatened to take over.

"Okay, okay. I give up!" Rogue exclaimed, surrendering to her captor at last.

"Good."

And without warning, he swooped down to kiss her on the mouth, capturing her beautiful, pale lips with his in one swift motion.

Rogue's eyes widened in deep surprise for just that split second and John felt her body freeze under him, still and limp and almost terrified. He wished there was _some way_ to make understand that he didn't want her to worry so much about killing him. Some way…

And just when he was so sure that she was about to pull away from him in protest, she started to kiss back, softly but surely, and then very soon with heated passion. Maybe, maybe she was reading his thoughts, absorbing his emotions, right at that very moment. He felt her heart speed up rapidly in sync with his own, and her lips tasted like fire. Sweet, sweet fire.

That was when he realised that her body temperature was climbing and that he was weakening increasingly by the millisecond. And Rogue seemed to have noticed this as well, because she broke the kiss hastily moments after, in an unsteady daze.

John was breathing heavily as he dropped in beside Rogue on the bed. The kiss didn't last as long as the previous one they'd shared, although he sure as hell wished it'd been longer.

"Are you… okay?" Rogue asked, breathlessly.

John looked at her, his heart feeling like it had accelerated a hundredfold in the mere seconds that they'd kissed. "Never been better," he replied, grinning feebly. And it was true.

Rogue looked at him dubiously, as though unsure whether or not he was lying. "What if I kill you one day?" she muttered.

"It'd be worth it," he assured her.

"Mmm…" Rogue thought to herself for a moment. And then, she dragged herself up to a sitting position. "I feel like fire," she told John openly, looking down at her gloved hands. "It's like… there's something burning inside," she said, seemingly not knowing how to explain it right.

John couldn't help but laugh. "I feel it all the time. It's like there's a fire burning right here, huh?" He reached out and placed his palm over where Rogue's heart would be for a short moment.

Rogue flushed momentarily. "I feel all Johnny-like now," she said, making a face.

"You mean like all hot and awesome?"

"I mean like all rebellious and reckless and impulsive."

John raised an eyebrow. "Damn. You can actually _feel_ that way?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Uh-huh." John felt his strength returning. He looked around the room for his lighter for a few seconds before he finally spotted it lying on Pietro's bed. "I just remembered something." He got up and retrieved the metallic zippo and then returned and plopped down next to Rogue once more. "It's yours again," he said, grabbing one of her gloved hands and placing it in her palm. "Figured you'd want your birthday present back, now that Storm's given me my igniter back."

Rogue was startled. "Umm, you sure?"

"It's yours," he replied—a firm declaration.

Rogue looked from the lighter to John and to the lighter once more, her fingers curling around the cool metallic object. "Thanks… Again."

"Any time, Marie."

---

_-A/N-: Now, wasn't this chapter just full of sweet Ryro-ness? _

_I went back to reread chapter 1 while doing this chapter and I got really emotional too. Gah._

_**Obiwanfan:** OMG. Asdfkjwewjk. GAH! I can't believe I forgot about your review last chapter! I feel so uber-bad now! I'm sorry! Awww… and despite me not mentioning you, you still reviewed! Here's a bag load of home-baked cookies as an apology. Er… Pyro made them for you!_

_**we-r-the-cure: **Firefly is awesome. I only JUST became a fan. Because I only JUST found out about it. Then I got all obsessed. Hmm… everyone seems to be feeling bad for poor Pietro now. Haha._

_**PsYcHoThErApY17:** Told you I promised some Ryro in this chapter! I TOLD YOU! HAH!_

_**Calm Serene:** I was way ahead of that, actually—about Logan being able to smell Mystique while in Risty-form because of his heightened senses. Well, yeah, I kinda' thought about it for awhile before actually putting Risty in the story. If you remember in X2, during the campsite scene, Wolvie wasn't able to tell straightaway that it was Mystique who stepped into his tent and not Jean Grey, until he felt the scars on her back that he inflicted in X1. Also, Risty and Logan never really got close enough to each other in the mansion for him to smell her. There's reason enough. :)_

_**tHe TrUtH aBoUt RoSeS: **I'm glad you don't find my characters OOC. I don't really like it when fanfic writers change the character's personalities as well. They rarely pull it off._

_Thank you **yaba, storytellergirl, zshp1411, Dama Jade, xLiLix, Cestari** aaaand **Jamie** for the reviews! Till next time!_


	22. XXII: Fuzzy Logic

_-A/N-: This chapter struck me as odd for some reason. It's like John is finally changing and feeling like he's starting to belong in the mansion again._

**---**

John spent a good amount of his time searching the sizeable mansion for Erik Lensherr or the location of his temporary living quarters at least. For some reason, he wasn't having any luck in tracking down the man. He'd already combed the guest rooms—they were all full, housing the increasing number of dejected mutants seeking refuge at the school due to the dying effects of the Cure. And he'd already tried the upper-level quarters where the staff slept. John couldn't help but notice that Scott Summer's room was seemingly untouched by the others, his things were all still there, intact and unmoved. The door to Jean Grey's room however, was locked like a dark, wooden barrier that hid bleak secrets—as though the reminder of what she once was and what she ultimately became was too much for the mansion's occupants to bear.

And it wasn't as though the mansion wasn't gloomy enough. The late news had traveled through the building like wildfire. Soon, everyone on campus seemed shaken by the fact that Warren's renowned father had been murdered by crazy mutant-hating bastards. And the fact that he wasn't even a _mutant_ either gave them something to worry about.

_Well, the worse is yet to come, I reckon,_ John muttered to himself inwardly.

He was about to give up what was once his tireless - but now pretty much aimless - search for his former leader when he ran into Bobby Drake just outside their room. _My old room_, John corrected himself automatically when he remembered that he had been sharing his room with poor old Pietro for quite awhile now.

"'Dyce, hey," Bobby greeted, and then looked at him inquiringly. "You lookin' for someone? You sure look like you are."

John thought momentarily about just brushing him off, then changed his mind abruptly and asked, "Have you seen Magneto?"

Bobby's brow furrowed and he looked at John almost warily. "What's this about?" His voice bordered on guarded skepticism.

John stared at Bobby.

_Just because it's Magneto I'm looking for, he thinks I'm going to murder the school's population or something. What the hell?_ He shook his head with a slight smirk before answering. "Oh, you know, I wanna' blow the mansion up. I just gotta' see if the dude likes my idea. Dammit, Drake, use your head. Why else would I wanna' go looking for him for?"

Bobby sighed with a small smile and questioned him no further—years of friendship gave him the aptitude to know when he wasn't being serious. "I heard he's staying in one of the last few rooms in the new mutant dorms, next to Leech's room I think."

John couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "They put him next to the boy whom he wanted to kill so badly on Alcatraz?"

The Iceman looked startled for a split second, as though just realising that particular fact. He then gave John a lifeless half-shrug. "The Professor knows what he's doing. I shouldn't be too worried."

John took a moment to study Bobby's face—it wasn't exactly like him to be _this_ aloof—and found traces of fear and unsettlement hidden behind his troubled eyes.

"What's eating you?" John asked, unable to help himself.

Bobby just smiled blandly and made to turn away and walk back into his room. "It's nothing you'd be bothered about," the blue-eyed boy replied indifferently, waving his question aside. "Just go on ahead and look for your old pal."

John frowned. What the hell was wrong with him? "Hey, man. Just because I seriously want to kick you in the ass doesn't change the fact that we're friends. And I know a brooding-Bobby when I see one. So, what the hell's eatin' you?"

Bobby looked back at John and held his gaze for what felt like ages before he let loose a second sigh and spoke, nervously glancing up and down the hallway at the same time as though afraid that someone might overhear what he had to say.

"It's… uh, well it's about Kitty…" he mumbled, "and Jubilee too," he added quickly, fidgeting uneasily on the spot.

_Huh?_

John's expression suddenly changed to one of amusement when he realised the subject in which Bobby was bordering on. "I get it," he said, trying his hardest not to grin. "This is mostly about Kitty ain't it?"

Bobby gave John what seemed like the ultimate look of annoyance and pain melded together in one tight-lipped grimace. "Yeah. Well… right. It's about Kitty. Jubilee has nothing to do with this."

John was smirking now. "What about Little Miss Pryde?"

Bobby gave a strangled noise like he'd swallowed something the wrong way. John had the impression that whatever he was trying to say was proving to be extremely difficult.

"Well, she, ah…" He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "Actually, can we not talk about this now?"

"Just spit it out already, Drake!"

"Look, she—and Jubilee I suppose… they've been crying over Warren's dad's death for ages now. It's as though they think Warren himself is dead. And, I dunno, the Professor's supposed death may have hit Kitty hard but this is… ridiculous!" he exclaimed in a semi-hushed voice, "She wasn't _this_ upset when Xavier died!"

John examined the boy before him for a while longer, before coming to an amusing conclusion.

"Could little Bobby Icefreak be _jealous_ of the bereaved angel?" John wondered aloud, semi-incredulous.

Bobby's head snapped up and he looked as though he'd been slapped. "_What?_ Jealous…!" he gibbered, outraged. But John always knew that anger was usually used to cover up embarrassment.

"Oh god, and I thought I've seen it all," John sniggered. "You pining after Kitty… that's just hilarious! And now you're jealous that she's paying more attention to _Warren_ instead of you! Hah!"

Bobby flushed, summoning up his ultimate death glare this time. "Thanks," he muttered sarcastically, "you've helped a lot."

"So it _is_ true!" John howled with laughter.

"Cut it out, man!" Bobby hissed, a dark look crossing his face like a mask of miserable trepidation.

Something in Bobby's hard voice made John stop laughing. But a grin was still firmly plastered on his face. He gave the Iceman a friendly pat on the back. "Don't worry, Drake. Secret's safe with me."

Bobby swatted his hand away like an annoying fly. "Why do I get the impression that you're not very trustworthy?"

John smirked. "Because I'm unpredictable, Drake. _Very_ unpredictable."

Bobby just groaned and shook his head, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

"Well, whatever," John said offhandedly, "I'm off. See ya' around, Ice."

With that, John set off down the corridor in the direction of the new mutant dorms, vaguely aware that Bobby had gone back into his room and slammed the door behind him in a huff.

John laughed to himself. _Who knew the Iceman could be so bloody emo when it came to girls?_

The pyrokinetic manipulator made his way to Magneto's room unhurriedly, now that he had a proper destination in mind. Bypassing Kitty's room, he wasn't entirely surprised to see the door shut—and most likely locked as well. All was quiet from within however.

He finally came to a stop in front of the room that stood just to the left of Jimmy's. It was devoid of life, but there was no questioning that it was indeed Magneto's room. No doubt, he didn't see Erik arrive at their doorstep with anything in hand, much less a suitcase full of his belongings. But there on the bed in the very center of the room sat an open travel case stuffed full of the man's possessions. And on the mahogany desk at the very far end of the small room, John recognized the unmistakable dorky-looking helmet and red-black ensemble.

_How'd he get that in here? _

And John wondered for a fleeting instant if Magneto had lived in the mansion before; years back when he had been close friends with Xavier.

Either way, Erik Lensherr was not in his room at the moment and John mentally cursed his luck.

"Looking for him, I suppose?" a vaguely familiar feminine voice rang out from behind him.

John had no trouble discerning whom it belonged to even though it wasn't exactly the inhuman, reptilian voice he was used to, but a more subtle, ordinary voice. It still hadn't lost its superior-than-thou edge however.

"Mystique," he greeted in an even voice, turning on the spot and fixing the dark-haired woman with a cool gaze. It was strange to see her walking around without her blue skin, yellow eyes and flaming red hair. But it was a nice change. Still, that didn't mean she wasn't as quick on her feet.

"Good to see someone around here calls me by my mutant alias." The woman sniffed disdainfully. "I was getting tired of being Raven."

John raised an eyebrow. Raven wasn't such a bad name, really.

"Anyway," Mystique continued, "You won't find him here. He's gone to discuss _tactics_ with Charles Xavier in their little war room belowground." The way she said the word 'tactics' made it seem like it were an absurdity. But John knew better.

He sensed contempt in her voice.

_Don't tell me _she's_ jealous too._ John was ready to bet that Mystique was getting all bitchy because she used to be the _only_ one that Magneto would readily share his plans with. Now, that was not the case.

"Tactics?" John echoed mildly.

"They think the mutant-haters are going to strike again," she said flatly.

He wasn't sure how she knew all this but he was sure that she didn't want to refer to Erik by name.

"And where do you stand in all this?" John asked finally.

Mystique's eyes flickered a gleaming yellow before changing back to its pale blue. "Frankly, I don't care anymore. I don't plan on getting involved again. Ever. Let them fight their own battles. I'll fight mine."

John shrugged. "Fair enough," he replied. And then he suddenly realised that she had just emerged from the room to the right of Magneto's. "Your room's right next to _his_?"

She glanced once at the doorway to her own room and nodded mechanically. "I was a 'new mutant', remember? Risty Wilde. So now I'm stuck in the new mutant dorms." She made a face. "Funny thing, huh? Strange how they didn't put _you_ in a room down this corridor. That would have made us a big, bloody happy family now, wouldn't you say?"

_Not if you tear Magneto's throat out while he's asleep, _John wanted to say. She was still obviously hurt about what the man did. _Damn, the dude really knows how to ditch people who were actually close to him._

He sighed. It was time to change the subject before she decided to get all depressed and angry and defensive. Like Bobby.

"How've you been, Mystique? I don't really recall talking to you since the whole Risty thing."

She looked startled for a moment, but then dropped her insensitive and stiff manner and gave him what seemed like a wry smile. "I've been better. But I must say that having classes here while being the young purple-haired adolescent had been… interesting."

John smirked. "I believe you called yourself a minor shapeshifter?" he asked, remembering the conversation they had in the kitchen when he still thought she was an audacious teen. "Didn't know you were actually willing to stoop so low as to adopt that as your power."

Mystique only gave John a look of irritation. "Overconfidence leads to suspicion, Pyro. I had to keep a low profile. Deceit is _everything_ if you want to fool your opponent," she hissed. "Thought I've told you that once before."

John didn't really want to remind her that she'd told him that at least a dozen times in the past while he was under her and Magneto's guidance.

"Well, you sure fooled me when you were Risty."

"That's because you were too busy concentrating on that other girl. What was it they call her? Rogue. That's the one." She smirked. "And you were in that little squabble with the Iceman too that night in her room."

"That was an interesting fight, now that I look back," John said lightly.

"I heard you lost the one at Alcatraz."

"In all fairness, he cheated." It was true to an extent. Bobby turned into Popsicle Man for real. And _then_ froze his hands.

He cheated big time.

"But you still lost," she chided him. "Weren't _you_ always the cheater?"

"Whatever."

There was a slight pause in their banter.

"You've fallen for her, haven't you?" Mystique asked finally, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Who? Rogue?"

"Yes. Her."

"You know what? You're right."

"I knew it."

"You know a lot of things, Mystique. You've probably been eavesdropping on our conversations posed as Jubilee or something."

"I would do no such thing," the woman declared hotly, but without any real indication that she had been offended.

John snorted. "And why do I not believe you?"

Their conversation lasted for a good ten minutes longer and John wasn't quite sure how they got from overly-angsty to lighthearted. But he knew that one thing was for sure: They were now on much friendlier terms with each other than what they were before.

-

Rogue really wished she'd gone with John to look for Magneto, now that she'd realised how boring it was outside. Sure, the mansion grounds sprawled extensively and were no doubt beautiful with all its fine greenery, but she was starting to feel a little weary.

"_You sure you don't wanna' come with me to go see him?" _John had asked her.

"_Not particularly. The man tried to kill me, remember?" _she recalled herself replying.

"_You know he's not gonna' lay a single finger on you while I'm around, Marie."_

And she had only given him a shrug of irresolution.

"_Okay, I understand totally. You don't have to follow."_

"_Yeah, umm… I'll just go out and get some fresh air. Think I need it."_

And here she was, doing just that, sitting by the edge of the vast water fountain that the mansion overlooked. Grass and dead leaves of every colour stretched out below her feet. The water feature itself was picturesque in its own right and clear, crystalline water was merrily trickling down the fountain spouts like drizzly fireworks, catching the late afternoon sunlight and reflecting in into her eyes.

Everything was so peaceful out here.

Truth be told, John was still in her head. Literally. The little kiss they shared resulted in her now wanting to see things blow up, for lack of a better expression, but it also made her wonder if there could be some other, hopefully safer, way for them to touch.

They had gone through so much together and so many words and emotions had been exchanged… Their last two kisses had proven that there was something there. Something magical. And she didn't want to lose him. Not ever. Not when she'd nearly lost him at Alkali Lake. And Alcatraz.

Alcatraz… That had been a disaster. The Brotherhood had been at fault there, Rogue knew. And now, was there going to be another disaster with this new group of extremists?

The girl silently tucked a loose strand of silvery-white hair that was billowing about in the wind behind her ear before gently removing a glove and dipping pale a finger into the fountain idly, swirling the cool waters with languid ease.

_Bobby did this once,_ she recalled. He'd put a finger to the water and turned it all to ice for Kitty Pryde. And they'd gone skating on this very fountain under the moonlit sky. That had been just after Xavier's demise. It was one of the things that drove her to take the Cure in the first place—winning Bobby's heart back. Well, not really. She did it because she needed to feel skin, to feel… normal.

Her hand skimmed across the water once more, enjoying the feel of it running through her fingers. She remembered how pretty the fountain looked when it had all turned to ice and wondered how the hell Bobby had managed to turn it all completely snow-white with just one finger.

She frowned and tried to rid her mind of all the things that Bobby did and did not do for her in the past. It didn't matter anymore, she told herself. She had John. And he was all she ever wanted.

She stirred the water once more and realised with some foreboding that it was much colder than what it once was. She glanced down at the mirrored surface, expecting to see her reflection looking back up at her. But that was not what she noticed immediately.

Standing up with widened eyes, she backed away from the edge of the water feature in horror when she realised that half the fountain had turned to ice and water had stopped pouring down the spout.

"Shit."

---

_-A/N-: Climax. Is. Coming. Soon._

_BOBBY'S HAVING GIRL PROBLEMS!_

_Hmm… On another note, I took the liberty to visit Youtube the other day to watch some X-Men: Evolution episodes (God, I missed that show) and I just have to say that Evo-Bobby is THE MOST adorkable thing since… uh, Evo Kurt! He's the most flirtatious, unserious, lady-lovin' juvenile you have EVER seen. Plus he thinks he's awesome. Well, he IS awesome, and his powers DO kick ass (way better than movieverse-Bobby who hasn't demonstrated the 'ice slide technique'… YET). But in all fairness, Evo-Pyro would kill Evo-Bobby in a firefight, no questions asked._

_Okay, I'm ranting and raving here. On to review responses!_

_**PsYcHoThErApY17:** I seriously LOVE you for quoting your favourite scenes last chapter in your review! At least I know I'm writing those two right. Seriously, I love you! And you've been sticking with this fic for so long! It's now at least 4 frickin' months old. LOL. :) _

_**mellowgold:** Hey! Haven't seen you review in awhile! Thanks for the review! Did you really go back to read the first chapter? Whoa!_

_**we-r-the-cure: **YES! RYRO FOREVER! You can never have too much Ryro! And yes, regarding Firefly/Serenity, Mal's my hero! LOL._

_**yaba:** You're absolutely correct in saying that the last chapter seemed like the 'calm before the storm'… There's a huge, big, bad storm coming._

_**Obiwanfan: **Hmm… I try my hardest to update as soon as possible—at the very least once a week. So fear not! Even if I'm dying of some virus, I'll still update this thing once every seven days._

_**BrownEyedAngel14:** Hey there! AWESOME! Did this fic actually get you hooked onto Ryro? Dang, I'm ecstatic now. Thank you for reviewing and welcome aboard the 'Stranger' ship!_

_And many thanks to the rest: **zshp1411, Dama Jade, xLiLix, the sillylittlepanda, storytellergirl **_&_** annie** as always for reviewing!_


	23. XXIII: Phase Shift

_-A/N-: Sorry it took awhile for the update. School just reopened and I've been really busy. Also, I want to slow down for a bit because this fic's coming to an end soon._

_Beta'd by **The 42**. Yay!_

**---**

Rogue was, to put it bluntly, dumbfounded. She was thunderstruck, rooted to the spot, horrified. But most of all, she was afraid. It wasn't as though she didn't see it coming; she knew that something like this was bound to happen. It was just a matter of time. Ever since she surprised herself by making the flames at the end of the zippo flare up, ever since the dreadful incident with the candleholder that night, hell, ever since her powers returned just days after her birthday, she'd felt different. As though her mutation had been altered somehow—changed, heightened, _distorted_, since the Cure.

_That's right,_ she told herself as she took a step towards the half-frozen fountain once more and peered into its icy depths, _it must've been the Cure. _She glanced down at the hand that had stirred the water just moments before, pale fingers still bare and wet and glistening in the sunlight.

_What the hell's happening to me? _

She hastily dried her hand against the front of her black blouse and then gave the fountain another once-over. _If it really is the anti-mutagen that did this, then I wonder if the same thing's happening to everyone else who's taken it._ Rogue looked up towards the mansion, knowing that both Magneto and Mystique had been 'force-fed' the Cure. Were their powers enhanced as well? Were they going through what she was?

She couldn't believe it. Without the added modification in her power of absorption, she already had problems in trying to control it. Now, things were much, much worse. And she didn't know what the hell she was going to do. She'd had about enough of hiding her powers.

"There's only one thing I _can_ do," she murmured to herself, and she reached her gloved-hand deep into the right pocket of her faded denim jeans, pulling out John's chrome lighter silently and fumbling with the lid. The metallic surface of the object was cool to her touch, even through the fabric of her glove, and the details of the cartoonishly illustrated shark mouth painted on the lighter seemed weird and strangely magnificent in the sun.

She had to admit, she was nowhere near as good as John when it came to deftly snapping the zippo open and lighting at in one go. When she finally had a steady flame going, she took in a deep breath, preparing herself. For what, she didn't really know. She didn't even know what she was going to do or_ why_ she was doing it.

The flame flickered for a moment and her breath caught.

Bringing a finger from her other, still-gloveless hand up to lighter, she prodded at the thin shaft of flame tentatively, and realised that she wasn't feeling any pain or any searing _heat_ whatsoever as the bright orange light licked at her skin. Instead, she felt a familiar, comforting warmth from the flame, almost as if she were touching John Allerdyce himself.

Of course. He was fire. He was Pyro.

Thrilled, she willed the fire to grow bigger, higher. She felt an overwhelming desire to test the limits of this power.

And it _did_ grow.

All of a sudden, she had John in her head. His thoughts, his memories, his emotions, his words, his _everything_. They all came crowding back into her mind. All a whirlwind of fiery sensations overtaking her own thoughts, random images of John's past flashed before her eyes and blinded her…

… Of John when he was young… John when he was kicked out of his own house by his parents… John when he first stepped into Xavier's school… John when he became best friends with Bobby… John when he first met Rogue… John when he started to hate Bobby because he was jealous of what he had—a loving family, a loving girlfriend, a decent personality—everything that John couldn't have… John when he was in the Brotherhood, terrorising people for the good of Magneto's cause… John when he came back to the mansion…

And the flames grew even higher, even hotter. But she was too caught up in the flurry of different emotions to realise what was going on.

Her fingers trembled unsteadily but she still held tight to the lighter. She felt herself go weak in the knees—go cold all over. And she finally felt the pain, the excruciating pain.

It hit her. She was burning herself.

With a sudden yelp, she impulsively let go of the lighter, not bothering to watch it drop to the ground, and plunged her whole hand into the fountain.

Immediately, she felt the burning sting dissipate within the cold water and she let loose a sigh of relief.

_What the heck happened?_ she thought wildly to herself, still trying to clear her head. But it was pretty obvious what happened. She had lost control. If she wanted to know how to truly master her stolen powers, she'd have to get the owners of those powers to teach her how to use them properly.

She slowly withdrew her hand from the semi-frozen water and inspected the damage. The pain was no longer there but a nasty, red burn mark covered the entire finger. It felt… _weird._ And even as she watched, the burnt spot was fast fading—healing—right before her very eyes. In less than half a minute, her finger was as good as new.

Her eyes widened.

_Oh, my god. I even have Logan's accelerated healing powers._

Flexing her fingers pensively for a few moments, she suddenly remembered that she had dropped John's zippo. Eyes darting across the ground frenetically, she searched for the piece of metal.

When she finally found it under a pile of brown, crisp leaves, she vowed never to let it leave her line of sight again. Even if it was the last thing she did.

Still deeply troubled by her newfound discovery of her unstable and highly unpredictable powers, she slowly made her way back to the front doors of the mansion in miserable dissatisfaction. She figured that maybe it would be better if she refrained from telling anyone about what happened there at the fountain if she could help it.

-

The dining hall was filled with an unusually high number of boarding students that night— perhaps because it was a school night. But despite the crowd, a strange undertone of hushed voices and an obvious sombre atmosphere hung in the air. It was almost suffocating.

The ambiance in the room wasn't helping with Rogue's current mood either, and she made her way through the coagulating crowd with dismal indifference, catching little snippets of whispered conversations as she tried to find an empty seat. Words and phrases such as 'mutant killers' and 'Warren Worthington' and 'stolen cure' kept resurfacing and Rogue felt sick to her stomach.

A hand tapped her lightly on the back and she turned to find John looking up at her from his chair.

"Well, it's about time you got here," he said, feigning irritation, but wearing a slight smirk. His voice seemed loud among all the quietness surrounding them.

He considerately pulled out the empty chair in between him and someone else, who turned out to be Jubilee. She seemed unusually quiet and distant—not even acknowledging Rogue's appearance—but Rogue reckoned it was just the news of Warren's father's death the day before.

"Sorry," Rogue murmured to John, settling herself between him and Jubilation Lee. "I… uh, I had to freshen up."

John looked hard at her, as though attempting to read her. He knew something wasn't quite right.

"I know you'll probably hate me for asking, but I'll ask anyway. You okay?"

She looked up and tilted her head to the side. "Yeah," she replied, "'course I am. Just really tired, I guess." She faked a yawn.

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You're a bad liar, Marie. A really, really bad one."

Rogue smiled weakly. "I don't get as much practice as you do. Lying is an art. One that I haven't yet fully mastered."

John didn't smile back. In fact, he was frowning openly now. "Seriously, Marie, is everything okay?"

Rogue didn't answer immediately, reaching out to grab a plate and piling it with food. She was glad that he was showing so much concern and she appreciated it. But right now, her mind was occupied with thoughts of fire, fire and more fire. It was hard to think.

When she finally replied, her voice was confiding and subdued. "Everything's not okay, John. But…" she avoided his worried gaze, "I don't think I'm ready to tell… to tell anyone anything… yet."

_I don't want to tell anyone. Ever. I never even asked for this. _Rogue speared a lettuce leaf with her fork resignedly.

"That's okay," John said after awhile, nodding understandingly. "You can tell me when you're ready. Just don't keep it all to yourself, okay?"

Rogue nodded back, grateful of John's consideration.

They ate in companionable silence. Rogue spotted Raven Darkholme in the crowd, talking to Hank McCoy it seemed. _He's back_, she thought, as she eyed the furry mutant. She remembered that he'd left a couple of days ago for the White House. _He's probably collected some information on the Eradicators, no doubt._ Rogue snorted._ What kind of extremist group would call themselves the Eradicators? Even the Brotherhood sounds better. _

She looked back down at her food, glumly pushing a piece of carrot around on her plate.

There was a noticeable _clink_ of cutlery being set down on the table and all of a sudden, Jubilee stood up, her chair scrapping loudly across the floor. She murmured a broken _excuse me_ and rushed out of the dining hall. Rogue could've sworn she heard a sob escape the girl and her eyes followed her departure.

She looked back at John quizzically.

John shook his head. "I asked," he said quietly, reading her thoughts. "Apparently, she knew the mutant girl who was killed the other night. Tabitha Smith or something. She used to be good friends with her before coming here to study. They were close."

"Oh." Rogue didn't really know what to say. "Was that why she's been so depressed all this time?"

"Yeah. She's been locked up in her room all day. Pryde too. She's all teary-eyed 'cause Worthington was murdered."

"Is there a reason to why everyone's dying?" Rogue asked darkly to no one in particular.

Before John had the chance to answer, someone came running into the large room, yelling something with great urgency. At first, both John and Rogue thought it might have been Jubilee returning. But it wasn't. It was a young male student, whom Rogue recognised vaguely as a student who'd been in the Institute for awhile. Samuel Guthrie. And he was causing a huge scene at the doorway.

"Isn't that Sam?" Rogue asked, craning her neck to see over the tops of people's heads.

John stood. "Cannonball? Yeah, that's him alright." He paused as the level of noise around them grew. "What the hell's going on?"

From some other far corner of the room, someone screamed. And it was rather obvious who. "Everyone!" Siryn shrieked. "Be quiet and listen!"

The deafening cry caused everyone to cringe and stop moving. Some even had their hands over their ears to block her screeching scream.

When all was finally silent, Sam spoke up once more, his unfamiliar voice echoing throughout the eating place.

"Two more deaths have been reported," he said loudly for all to hear. "Both mutants. Both in broad daylight. It's all over the news right now."

The silence continued for perhaps another fraction of a second. And then, like an angry volcano, a torrent of voices exploded and rose in a crescendo. Expressions of shock and terror were mirrored on every single face.

---

_-A/N-: I wasn't very satisfied with this chapter and it was meant to go much longer than this. Also, I hope you guys didn't feel that Rogue and John were too OOC in this._

_I feel bad to have killed Tabitha 'Boom Boom' Smith. She's actually an awesome mutant with awesome powers._

_**PsYcHoThErApY17:** And I quote, 'Crazy, fire weilding, Australians are ALWAYS good.' Woohoo! You have no idea how true that is! And I live in Australia too! LOL._

_**storytellergirl: **'I especially love how you're getting these characters to change into whole new people without losing the remnants of their former selves'. Wow. I'm honoured that you think so! It's actually really, really tough to write these characters and keep them in character when you have an expanding plot and all. (: Thank you for commenting!_

_**Chica De Los Ojos Cafe: **'I loved X-Men Evolution episodes. You can watch them on YouTube? Could you elaborate more on that?' Sure I can! All you have to do to watch all the episodes (1-52) is to visit the YouTube site, type down something like 'X-Men Evolution Episode' in the search bar and you should be able to get your results and watch it all from the site._

_**Kumiko Eharu:** Hey! Thanks so much for taking the time to review! It's great that you've found this fic interesting and I hope you'd keep reading!_

_**Randabeth:** 'I'm afraid we're running into the clichéd 'Bobby kisses Rogue, Pyro freaks, Pyro betrays Rogue' storyline.' Heh. I shouldn't really be saying this and spoiling it for everyone, but no, no. No such thing has been planned to happen. In fact, something a million times better is gonna' happen. Just wait. Yours is an interesting concept though. (:_

_**Obiwanfan:** Your review made me nearly die with happiness._

_**Sarah:** 'I have been reading this for a very long time, just never got the time to review.' Wow. Hi. I'm so glad you've finally found the time to review. It makes me happy AND satisfied that people enjoy reading what I come up with. So, thank you! I hope to see you continue reading this fic!_

_**Kryptonite: **Hey there! Thanks for reviewing! I loved your review! Hmm… And since you wanted to know, Pietro's name is pronounced 'Pee-yay-trow' I suppose. Haha! And 'Piotr' is 'Peter', basically. _

_Thank you so much to the rest of you who reviewed the last chapter, namely **darkangel1910, zshp1411, we-r-the-cure, Dama Jade, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, the sillylittlepanda, yaba, xLiLix, Psyc0gurl0 Dementa **and **michellio**. I love you guys!_

**REVIEWS WOULD BE FANTASTIC!**


	24. XXIV: Inside Man

_-A/N-: Finally, chapter 24._

Beta'd by The 42.

**---**

In all her time at the Institution for Young Mutants, Marie D'Ancanto had never once been in a gathering quite like this—a congress which included her, as well as the other X-Men from her generation, not just the 'important' adults. There was that one time at the campsite at Alkali Lake way back when. But even then, she, John nor Bobby was let into that conversation between the grown-ups. As though they weren't ready to be X-Men. As though they weren't _good enough_. Rogue vaguely remembered how she had to resort to getting Nightcrawler to take a closer look.

So, it came as a small surprise to Rogue when Charles Xavier telepathically called for an emergency meeting—seconds after Sam's frenzied announcement during dinner—with all the X-Men as well as the two outstanding members of the now-defected Brotherhood. The Professor was unduly concerned with the fact that the murder of the two young mutants (whom Rogue found out to be a girl named Amara Aquilla and a young man named Lance Alvers) took place not too far away from the mansion itself.

Needless to say, Bobby, John, Piotr, Ororo, Raven and Rogue herself had left the dining hall as a group as soon as Xavier's urgent message reached them. Upon reaching the Professor's large office, Rogue noticed that they weren't the first ones there. Logan, Magneto, Hank McCoy and even Kitty were already seated, talking in hushed voices among themselves. It was then that she realised that she hadn't actually seen Pryde at dinner.

_She can't still be upset about Worthington's death…? _Rogue briefly wondered if Kitty had locked herself in her room all day until now.

Right now in the Professor's room, which seemed pretty overcrowded at the moment, the discussion on how they should react to this latest atrocity—courtesy of the Eradicators—was underway.

"This is getting ridiculous, Charles," Erik Lensherr stormed, his voice deep and authoritative. "How many more mutant deaths do we need before you start to retaliate? I know the coordinates of their base. I see no wrong in storming their headquarters and getting rid of them once and for all."

For some strange reason, Rogue seemed to want to agree with that notion—even though it came from Magneto, the man who tried to kill her a few years back, and sounded almost debauched. How many more innocents must perish before they start fighting back?

"As much as I hate to admit it, Metal Head is right," Logan said darkly, turning to the Professor. "Something has to be done or we'll have mutants being killed left, right and centre. If we hit 'em now, they won't see us comin'."

A short, pensive silence filled the air as Xavier frowned, leaning back in his desk chair and steepling his fingers. His eyes swept the room slowly and almost searchingly, gaze moving from person to person.

'And where do you stand in this, Rogue? What do you believe we should do?' 

Rogue was startled. The Professor was looking straight at her, his face expressionless but his manner expectant.

'_I don't know, Professor,'_ Rogue replied truthfully. _'But I think Magneto and Logan are right. We should at least try to do something about this.'_

She was met silence.

Moments later, Xavier finally spoke up and addressed Logan's suggestion.

"It isn't so simple, Logan," he said. "And although I realise now that quite a few of the people in this room right at this moment agree that we should attempt to stop these people, acting too soon may be too rash a move. Besides," he looked back up at Erik, "you've heard what the state officials disclosed. They're doing what they can at the moment to source out the threat-"

"Have you completely lost your mind, Charles?" Magneto's voice was hard with anger. "Do you honestly believe that the government can help us? They are homo sapiens, Charles. Petty, powerless creatures. And they're all the same. Do you think they would bother with affairs concerning us mutants? In no way do they have our best interests at heart."

"Now wait just a second. I beg to differ-" Hank McCoy started reprovingly, but was cut off when the metal manipulator continued his heated tirade.

"I know where they are, where their base is located. We have to destroy them all _now, without_ the aid of the government. This is our fight and I won't stand to work alongside a petty band of ignorant humans."

From one of the far corners of the room, away from the rest of the group, Mystique gave a snort of mocking laughter. "The Cure made you a human once," she said out loud, almost amusedly, but her tone of scorn was hard to miss.

Erik turned and gave her a level stare. She returned his look with a glare of her own. The air almost seemed to cackle with tension.

Rogue looked at the both of them in mixed fascination, then exchanged a glance with John, who looked at her with a shrug, mouthing _'not my problem' _as though he didn't quite care that two of his former acquaintances were at loggerheads with each other. But the frown on his face told Rogue everything she needed to know. He _did_ care. Because these two people were practically the only family he had. And it broke her heart to see John so bothered by this. So much so that she practically felt like leaping up and screaming at them to kiss and make up.

"Professor," Ororo spoke up then, ignoring the on-going glaring competition between Magneto and Mystique, "is there anything we _can_ do?"

"At the moment? No," Xavier replied shortly. "But I will get Erik, Raven and Hank to work on the location of the headquarters of these anti-mutant extremists. Once we've scouted the area, I assure you, we _will_ come up with something. What troubles me about the two deaths that transpired today is that no one knew _how_ they were killed." He shook his head.

"No one knows. But on the news, they said… they think it was poison. Or some sort of infection that weakened their whole life system severely."

It was Kitty who spoke this time, her voice subdued and quiet, but unwavering.

Hank McCoy nodded contemplatively. "That would not be a bad theory, considering the fact that Tabitha Smith was killed the same way. Only Worthington was killed by an explosion. Perhaps the mutants were physically injected with some viral contagion."

"Maybe it was the altered Cure that Blacken was talking about," Bobby offered.

"That girl was killed before the Cure was stolen from Worthington Labs," John pointed out, absentmindedly lighting his wrist igniter once and snuffing the flames with a single thought.

"Doesn't mean we should rule out that verdict," Hank said wisely. "And please don't do that. We don't really want the mansion to burn down at a time like this."

John scowled and let his hand hang loosely by his side. He didn't bother telling the blue, fur-covered man that if he were to accidentally cause something to catch on fire, he could put it out easily with just a bat of an eyelid.

"I knew we should've taken care of that ridiculous 'Cure' when we had the chance," Erik muttered darkly.

"Right. I think that is all on this matter for tonight. You all are free to leave my office. However, I need to talk to Raven, Erik and Hank for a moment. In the meantime, no student is to leave the premises under _any_ circumstances without adult supervision. This includes you young ones as well," Xavier added gravely, nodding towards Rogue, John, Bobby and Piotr. "It's not safe out there anymore."

-

That night, everyone went to bed early. Curfew was brought forward and no one was to be out of their dorms after half-past nine unless they were hungry and in dire need of food from the kitchen, or needed the bathroom and didn't have one in their own rooms.

John had no idea where the hell Pietro was and he hadn't seen the speedster all day. That didn't mean he gave a rat's ass though. He still hadn't forgotten the little fiasco down the hallway where the audacious, silver-haired teen verbally abused both him and Rogue. And he would never forget it.

_I should really kick that fuckin' bastard's ass for what he said to Marie, _John fumed as he unstrapped his wrist igniter and placed it on his bedside table.

When Pietro wasn't in bed that night, John just assumed he was being his rebellious self and wanted to stay out past curfew.

He still had difficulty swallowing the fact that his roommate was – is – Magneto's son, let alone the fact that the old man even _had_ children. But despite the fact that Pietro was indeed his former leader's son, John felt held no level of respect whatsoever for the pathetic brat.

Getting into bed, John flicked the switch to his bedside lamp and drifted off to sleep in the darkness. Not even the slightest sliver of moonlight filtered through the blinds to illuminate the room No. Tonight, John was well aware of the strong wind outside which howled faintly through the cracks in the window. Dark, ominous clouds covered the sky and there was not a twinkling star to be seen through the darkened veil. In his last moments of consciousness, John thought of Rogue.

And in his blurred thoughts, Marie was always as stark as the white streaks in her hair.

-

Midnight. Rogue made her way through the dark, gloomy mansion as silently as she could with John's lighter in one hand lighting her way. Her thin, flimsy nightdress whispered through the air as she walked. The dim, orange glow of the fire cast strange, indistinct shadows across the ground and along the walls, making the hallway seem surreal and almost dreamlike. The kitchens were just a few more corridors away. She just hoped she wouldn't run into anyone on the way there. Which was unlikely, since there wasn't a soul nor sound to be heard throughout the mansion, apart from the distant billowing of wind outside.

The truth was, she wasn't at all hungry—despite not having a full dinner that night. It was just that she couldn't sleep. And she didn't know why.

In the past, before the Alkali Lake incident and before John had left, the three of them—her, John and Bobby—used to always get up at irregular hours of the night and meet up in the kitchen to just talk and hang out.

_That_ had been when Bobby and John shared a room. When she and Bobby were still in a stable relationship. When John had tried so hard not to be a third wheel in their little golden trio.

_It's funny how things change._

_But then again, they always do, don't they?_

She finally got to the kitchen, zippo still in hand.

Something was odd. The lights were on, but there wasn't a soul to be seen.

She hesitantly stepped into the small, enclosed kitchen and tilted her head to the right, trying hard to discern any sound, scent or anomaly in the air even though she knew that she had no idea if Logan's powers were still within her. She wondered if there was a way to turn her powers on and off. Either way, whether or not her borrowed powers were working, she sensed nothing out of the ordinary.

She treaded her way towards the dividing table and gingerly sat down. Everything seemed too quiet and too still. Snapping John's lighter shut, Rogue tossed it high up into the air and caught it deftly in one swift movement, then immediately set the metallic object down on the stone counter with a flamboyant _clink, _which echoed sharply around the kitchen. She remembered clearly how John used to always do that to amuse both her and Bobby. Now, she understood why.

_Clink._

"_John! Cut it out! Do you want to wake the whole school up?" Bobby hissed, his eyes darting towards the doorway of the kitchen apprehensively. "We'll get caught out if you keep playing with that stupid lighter of yours!"_

_John rolled his eyes and looked to Rogue almost sympathetically. "Is your boyfriend always _this_ pernickety? I swear, he never used to be such a goody-goody. What the hell did you do to him?"_

_Rogue shook her head. "Ha, ha, ha." Her voice was sarcastic, but she was smiling openly. "Very funny, John."_

_John gave her a mocking bow. "I try," he replied as modestly as he would allow himself._

_Bobby snorted._

_John turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "What? Your girl thinks I'm funny. Why can't you?"_

_Bobby looked slightly put out. "Oh, you're a real laugh, John. A real joke."_

_John ignored him._

Rogue stared musingly at deep nothingness as she thought back to the night when that incident occurred. She was surprised that she even remembered that it had ever happened. She never used to understand why the hell John acted like such an overconfident show-off half the time the three of them hung out.

But she finally _did_ understand, after touching him for the first time at Bobby's house during his reckless outburst.

John Allerdyce was such a show-off because he was trying to catch her attention. To _impress_ her.

"_Will you stop showing off?"_

"_What, for her? It's not my fault your girlfriend's getting excited."_

There was a sudden a noise just beyond the kitchen door. Like a low rustling of fabric, or a soft breath of wind. Rogue blinked, breaking out of her reverie, and looked up and out the door into the darkness beyond.

"Hello…?" she said quietly. "Is anyone there?"

She was met with otherworldly silence. She could_'_ve been sitting in a deserted graveyard and it wouldn_'_t have made any difference.

Thinking it was just her imagination, she shrugged mentally and got off the chair to get a snack from the fridge.

Just as she bent over to retrieve a packet of chocolate coated nuts, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, and then felt herself go cold all over. She spun around quickly, eyes darting all over the kitchen. And the last thing she remembered was a sharp, excruciating pain to her forehead—like something hit her over the head. She felt herself collapse to the ground, limp. And all was dark.

-

The next morning, John was rudely awakened by a loud, frantic banging on his bedroom door.

"'Dyce! Open up!" _Bang. Bang. _"JOHN!"

It was Bobby.

John twisted and turned in his bed as sunlight pierced his line of vision like white-hot needles. It sounded like World War III outside and John wished that Bobby would stop trying to give him a headache. _What now?_ He wondered, more than a little annoyed.

But there was _something_ in Bobby's voice that wasn't quite right.

"What do you want, Drake?" John shouted back as he sat up abruptly.

"Open the door!" Bobby demanded yet again.

John did as he was told, wondering what the hell has happened this time. Another death? Another mutant murder?

He yanked the door open viciously and was surprised to see that Kitty was with Bobby. And they both looked as though the world was about to end in a matter of minutes.

He waited for one of them to say something – _anything_ – and not just stand there in unnerving silence.

Bobby looked much too upset to say anything. It was Kitty who opened her mouth to speak.

"Last night…" she started shakily. "T–there was an…" she broke off and tried to start again, composing herself as best as she could. "There was a note," she said at last, "We f-found it in the kitchen. They're _gone_. She's - they've… she and – and Pietro. She's been… kidnapped… by _them_."

John looked blankly at Kitty for a few seconds, not able to comprehend what she had just said. As though his brain wasn't going to accept what she wanted him to.

"Kidnapped?" he echoed vacantly.

And then it hit him. His heart stopped. He didn't even need them to tell him who 'she' was. _She's_ been kidnapped. Rogue's been kidnapped. _His Marie had been snatched away._ By _them_.

---

_-A/N-: Time for some **thrilling heroics.**_

_**we-r-the-cure: **A big scene with Rogue and Magneto? Hmm, well, for now I can tell you one thing: Rogue and Magneto will come to an eventual understanding of each other, and maybe even finally respect each other. But you'll have to wait and see._

_**Obiwanfan: **I wouldn't say I've been updating often (my bad!) but I'm really glad that you find this fic one of your favourites. (:_

_**Dementa:** There you go! I (kinda) brought Magma into the fic! And Avalanche too. But not in a way you would've thought, huh?_

_**PsYcHoThErApY17:** Been waiting long for this chapter? Haha. Sorry for the wait. I've been working on a novel that I'm going to write (and hopefully publish) in the near future. I love how you quote your favourite lines from each chapter. And I love how you've stuck with this fic for so long. It's gonna' end soon (about 6 chapters to go?) and who knows? There might be ANOTHER sequel. LOL._

_**blazingfire03:** Ooh! You asked a lot of questions in your review. Wait, hang on. WELCOME ABOARD THE STRANGER SHIP AND THANK YOU FOR BEING A READER! Okay, back to the questions. I can't answer your second and third one without giving away the plot. But I can answer your question about John's parents and whether they'll be appearing in future chapters. The answer is: I highly doubt it. The reason why I included them in many of John's (and Rogue's) flashbacks is to give you guys a better understanding of how John came to be and why he feels the need to be rebellious and reckless. He obviously feels resentment towards his parents and that explains why he looks up to Magneto and Mystique as 'sort of' paternal figures._

_**Jamie:** I hope this chapter answered all of your million questions that you asked. LOL._

_**THe TrUtH about RoSeS:** I know what you mean when you say that John seemed OOC in the last chapter. I had huge qualms about the chapter before I posted it because everyone was getting too out of character. But I suppose there's nothing I can do about it now._

_And to the new readers, **Nyx – Night Goddess, ShadowStar21, monkeylvr700, M.J.L.S, Chibi-Kari, grace** as well as the older readers, **Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, storytellergirl, xLiLix, Kumiko Eharu, yaba, jade598, zshp1411, randabeth, Psyc0gurl0, Kryptonite,** thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	25. XXV: Uprising

_-A/N-: Thrilling heroics. As promised._

_Beta'd by The 42._

--- 

He tried to laugh. Surely this was a joke. One huge, twisted, fucking joke that maybe Drake and Pryde thought they could get a kick out of. But the horror and fear and _pain_ painted on each of their faces were hard to dismiss, and he knew that they weren't faking it. It was all real. She was gone. And as John stood there, still in his nightshirt, with the two of them staring back at him as though doomsday were fast approaching, he wished to God that it _was_ indeed a joke.

"John?" Kitty's voice was barely above a whisper, as though she were frightened of what he might do now that he's found out about the kidnapping.

In all honesty, John didn't know _what_ to do. Didn't know what the hell to say. How the fuck were you supposed to react to something like this? What the hell was he supposed to do now that the most important person in his life had been stolen away by a group of crazy freaks intent on killing them all?

"Fuck." He paced the narrow hallway, coming to an abrupt halt just in front of the unfurnished wall opposite his room door. He ran a hand through his messy hair and took in a single shuddering breath. His worse nightmare had just come to life. Pietro he didn't care about. But Marie…

He felt lost. Scared shitless.

But most of all, he felt anger.

"Fuck!" He yelled out loud, this time punching the wall in fury.

"John." It was Bobby who spoke this time. "We should really tell someone about this. We-"

John rounded on Bobby, a new wave of anger and disbelief washing over him. "You haven't told _anybody_ yet? What are you—_stupid_?" He knew he shouldn't be berating Bobby at this moment, and it was highly likely that the Iceman was feeling as fucked about this as he was, but John couldn't take it. Why the hell hadn't he said anything to anyone yet?

Bobby looked as though he had no heart to feel the exasperation he usually felt when dealing with John.

"Well – No. I mean, yes. We've told _you_. But we only just found _this _in the kitchen a few minutes ago," Bobby held up a sheet of nondescript paper with almost illegible writing on it. John hadn't noticed it until now. "We came running straight to you after we found it. We thought maybe you should know about it before… y'know, before word gets out and everyone knows about it."

John made a grab for the piece of paper, nearly ripping it clean in half from snatching it from Bobby's grip. Both Bobby and Kitty said nothing as John hastily scanned the lines of the short note.

_'As you no doubt would have realised, I have shamelessly abducted two of your precious students from your obviously 'unique' institution. Yes, us Eradicators know who you people are. We will not hesitate to kill your students if you do not conform to our demands. If you ever want to see them again, alive, meet me and the rest of my party at the abandoned Woodbridge Asylum by sundown. Your homicidal friend who killed one of mine should know what I am talking about. _

It wasn't even signed. But John knew who it was without a doubt. Blacken. Ezekiel Fucking Blacken. At that moment, all John felt like doing was going after the murderous bastard and ripping him to shreds. Either that or watch him writhe and scream and _burn_ as he catches on fire so hot that the flames of hell couldn't even compare.

"This was also on the table where I found the note," Bobby said suddenly, taking something out of his pocket and passing it to the pyrokinetic manipulator.

John cursed. It was his zippo lighter. And he'd be damned if Marie didn't always carry it around with her.

The silence between the three mutants was deep and unsettling, and for a fleeting moment, John couldn't help but wonder just _how_ Marie was abducted. A thousand horrible thoughts and scenes played out in his mind. Were they torturing her? Were they… _experimenting_ on her?

_Don't go there, Pyro. Don't fucking think about it. _

And John was comforted by the fact that at least Marie was still a mutant. She was still Rogue. And she couldn't be touched by anyone without sucking the life out them.

"We've got to tell someone," Kitty reaffirmed, her voice stronger and clearer than what it once was. "We need to get them back."

Exhaling a breath that he felt he'd been holding for ages, John tried to calm himself down—which was hard to do, considering he felt like half his world had already stared to crumble to dust.

"Sundown," he muttered grimly. "Woodbridge…" It was obvious how much this seemed like a set-up. A ruse. Even an idiot would know that. Blacken only wanted to lure the X-Men—who posed an obvious threat and nuisance to his cause—to his base and then kill them all. But John did not care. In fact, he was trying hard to resist the urge to take off right now and storm the asylum himself. Despite knowing that he would just as well be committing suicide. He couldn't do it alone.

"We're going to see Xavier," John said abruptly. "Now."

Kitty and Bobby shared a brief, cursory glance.

Another war was upon them.

-

Within moments of notification, everyone found themselves crowded in a room that John had never been in before—nor knew it even existed. It was overly large and empty, apart from an enormous supercomputer sitting at the far end of the room. At the moment, its wide, high-definition screen was flickering brightly and a low hum emanated from within the machine. Hank McCoy was sitting at the controls of computer, typing furiously at the large in-built keyboard.

John couldn't help but detect the enveloping gloom in the room's atmosphere. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, silent, unable to say much to each other. Logan was restlessly pacing up and down a section of the room in impatient agitation, clearly distressed about Rogue's abduction, and John could relate to that.

"I've located the building with the coordinates you've given me," Hank McCoy said at last, turning from the monitor to look at Erik Lensherr. "And I've come up with some interesting information about that particular mental institution."

"Yes?" Erik demanded impatiently.

"The asylum was scheduled for demolition almost five years ago."

"Five years ago?" Bobby asked incredulously, a troubling frown evident on his face.

The fur-covered mutant at the computer nodded in confirmation.

"Here's what I don't get," Logan spoke up. "Why the hell is it still standing?"

Hank typed at a few more keys and an enlarged map of the building location was brought up along with several paragraphs of figures and statistics. He scanned the data quickly.

"It says here that the government didn't give the green light to have it removed, so they left it there, abandoned and unused. Blacken must've taken it up as a base knowing that no one would think twice about entering."

"Makes sense," Erik muttered.

"So, where is the damn building located?" Logan growled.

"About an hours flight west from here, just on the outskirts of the Deling forest."

"Good," John said hastily. "Let's leave, _now_."

"No. We're not going anywhere," Erik stated harshly. "Not yet anyway."

John spun around and glared, "What're you talking about? We're getting her back! We know where she is! Let's just go already!"

"Have I not taught you _anything_, boy?"

Logan chose this moment to interrupt. "I'm all for it," he growled. "The boy's right. We leave _now_."

"Listen you fools," Erik snapped, "the intent that this man had was to steal away two of your most capable students in the hopes that you would go after them. He states that they will not perish until you conform to his whims. That would be as good as surrendering yourselves to your own executors."

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

"Do you idiots not think that this is just an obvious trap? He plans to lure you to his lair, knowing full well that you want them _back_."

Raven crossed her arms with a frown—the first sign of any real emotion so far. "You seemed intent on going after them just yesterday. And now, you're in doubt."

"That was when we had the upper hand! We would have had the advantage if we caught them unprepared. Now, they have two people held hostage and they're obviously expecting our arrival some time in the late afternoon."

"What do you propose we do then, Erik?" Xavier asked.

"We come up with a plan."

John wasn't at all surprised by his answer. Like most of his forthright exploits, Magneto was always one to devise some sort of winning strategy, instead of diving headfirst into action.

"What plan?" It was the first time the silent Ororo spoke up all through the congregation.

Logan snorted in disbelief. _"What plan?_ What plan! We don't have the time for this shit! Just kill them already!" he snarled. "If we don't do something soon, I'm going after her myself."

_Her_. So Logan only really cared to get Rogue back and not Magneto's son. John felt momentary sympathy for Pietro. The last time he actually said anything to the speedster was when he was cursing boy to hell. Or something along those lines.

"Logan, please. I'm sure everyone else in this room is as concerned as you are for the safety of our abducted students. Let's just hear what Erik has to say." Xavier looked expectantly at his friend.

Erik Lensherr looked at all of the faces in the room staring intently back at him. Logan was livid and Charles was anxious. And he had never seen John so afraid before. In fact, he didn't think John—the Pyro he'd nurtured—was even capable of upholding fear of any kind, be it the fear of losing his dignity in a fight, or the fear of losing someone. But now, he realised how much this mutant girl—the girl he once tried to use to his advantage—meant to all of them there in the room. And suddenly, his thoughts shifted to his only son, Pietro. A son that he'd never really understood. And he painfully regretted not even _trying_ to understand him.

How dare they take him? How dare they make the son of the almighty Magneto a prisoner to human-kind?

"Erik?"

The metal manipulating mutant turned to give Charles a chilling, almost inhuman smile. "I say we hunt them down and make those fools pay."

-

In less than half and hour, they agreed on who was to go and who was to stay back. Ororo, John, Bobby, Logan, Raven and Erik were to take the Blackbird to Woodbridge and get both Rogue and Pietro back whilst Xavier and Hank McCoy were to stay back at the mansion and keep in contact with the group. Piotr decided to sit this one out, and Kitty was undecided. _Just as well_, John thought. Pryde just wasn't meant to go on dangerous missions like these, especially when they were up against people who would kill mutants on sight.

As everyone readied themselves to begin the impromptu rescue mission, both John and Bobby were already below ground, making their way through the bright, white-walled corridor that lead to Cerebro, heading towards the large hangar where the Blackbird was kept.

Bobby was in his customary black leather suit, while John donned something more comfortable, complete with his own brown leather jacket and combat boots. He might be an X-Man now, but he sure as hell didn't like the uniforms they wore.

The two, in pensive silence, were about to step onto the ramp of the vast-but-sleek aircraft to board the Blackbird when a loud voice, amplified by the enclosed space, reverberated throughout the hangar.

"I'm coming with."

It was Kitty.

John glanced nonchalantly at the girl. "No. You're not," he replied blandly, keeping his voice level.

"Yes I am," Kitty retorted boldly.

There was a moment of tensed silence that hung in the air while the two teenagers stared each other down. Then…

"No, you're _not_," John said again, this time much more forcefully.

"Why not?" Bobby asked loudly.

John turned to look at him, incredulous, as though he really _were_ stupid.

"She's too young," he shot back. "Way too inexperienced."

"Excuse me?" Kitty blazed, crossing her arms in defiance. "Inexperienced? I'll have you know that I was at Alcatraz taking on that Jugger-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," John cut through, "You're. Still. Not. Going." He emphasized each word as though speaking to a particularly slow child.

"Why _not_?" Bobby argued exasperatedly once more, "C'mon, John. Do you…" the Iceman's voice faltered for a bit and he coughed uncomfortably, "Don't you remember the day at Alkali Lake? Where they left us behind to wait?" Bobby's voice had toned down a bit.

John frowned. "You mean the day I walked out on you guys?"

Of course he remembered. He never forgot.

"Yeah, I do. Still comes back to me all the time." His voice was deathly quiet.

Bobby tried to ignore the raw emotion he was suddenly receiving from the boy before him.

"Remember when you left, you said that you were sick of… of all-"

"—of all this kids' table shit," John finished, "I know."

There was an awkward silence between the trio for a while. John was somewhat surprised that Bobby could recall such a thing. Then again, his best friend _did_ leave them all to join the 'dark side'. John couldn't help but feel a strange connection with Kitty at that moment in time. She wanted to join in the action, and she wouldn't stand to be denied that one opportunity. It was exactly how he had felt at Alkali Lake.

Finally, John sighed and gave Kitty a final glance before boarding the jet.

"She's coming. Let's go."

---

_-A/N-: Just to let everyone know, Woodbridge Asylum and Deling forest are not real. _

_Also, don't expect a fast update. My major exams are coming up next week, and being the hardworking, over-achieving psycho I am, I'll be spending all my time doing crazy things like studying for Chemistry, Physics, Math and Legal Studies. _

_**tryxxi: **Glad to have you with us! Thanks for the review! Here's a cookie! –Hands you a cookie– _

_**blazingfire03:** I MADE IT ONTO YOUR FAVOURITE STORIES LIST? OMG! Yay! Haha! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. _

_**xLiLix:** Gah! You must've been waiting like, for ages for this chapter, huh? Sorry for being so uber-late. My hectic schedule just won't let me update! Anyway, yes, Magma and Avalanche are dead... Maybe it hints at what might come next. _

_**Dama Jade:** You made a good guess to what's killing the mutants. The Legacy Virus. Well, I can't tell you what it is just yet. But you'll find out soon enough, and it might surprise you. _

_**PsYcHoThErApY17: **Uh… I don't know where to start with this reply. You gave me the longest review for the previous chapter! First of all, I hope you've received the message I sent you awhile back regarding the novel I'm writing. Next, I'm happy you found the time to comment on your favourite quotes from chapter 24! And also, yes, there just might be a sequel to this thing, depending on how I end it. Oh yeah, it's awesome that you keep up to date with the goings-ons on my homepage. It's nice to know that people out there actually visit it. Finally, I just wanna' say 'THANK YOU' for sticking with this fic. _

_**Tiniwiel:** Hey there! Thanks for your review! And I'm glad that this fic has made you a Ryro shipper! Hope you'd continue reading! ) _

_**TpolTucker:** You're a Rogue/Cyclops shipper, eh? Cool! Thanks for being a reader and reviewer! Don't worry, I don't plan on stopping this fic anytime soon. I've gone too far to just drop everything. Hmm… if you have any questions, just ask! _

_**Opal Witch:** Wow, your review made me laugh like a mad woman! You want me to marry you? Haha! I assume you enjoy reading this fic? It's awesome that you do! And don't you stop reading too! _

_To the other new reviewers**: Boon, RedMagic, wolfygirl88 and 6481**, thanks! Your comments are greatly appreciated! And also, **Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, zshp1411, Cestari, Nyx – Night Goddess, Psyc0gurl0, BrownEyedAngel14, yaba, Dementa, tHe TrUtH aBoUt RoSeS, we-r-the-cure, Obiwanfan** and **annie**, you all deserve cookies! _


	26. XXVI: Death Trap

_-A/N-: Ah. Due to the growing number of threats I've been receiving through reviews and private messages telling me to UPDATE or suffer an untimely death (or something along those lines), I have decided to make a comeback much sooner than I had planned. Hah. So, without further ado, here's chapter twenty-six._

---

Rogue's head swam as she slowly cracked her eyes open. Her blurred vision didn't stop her from dimly discerning the fact that she was lying stomach-first on the hard, dusty ground in an extremely uncomfortable position. Her hands were carelessly bound behind her back and her mouth was gagged by a piece of cloth. Her forehead throbbed dully with pain and she wouldn't have been surprised if a large welt had swelled up where she'd been struck that night.

_Wait. _Rogue's scattered thoughts stopped racing at a million miles per second as she backtracked and painstakingly tried to recall what caused her to end up in her current, feeble state; tried to think back to what had caused her to black out. It was dark, it was night, it was… in the mansion kitchens.

_Someone attacked me…? _

But all the thinking made her head spin even more. She shut her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip in an attempt to drive the pain away and clear her mind.

It wasn't long before she heard them. Footsteps. And very soon, voices. Two distinctly different voices—one of was somewhat vaguely familiar, but the other one was not quite. She opened her bleary eyes once more, this time taking in the dark, musty surroundings of an old room. An old storage room by the look of it. All of a sudden, the two speaking figures appeared in her line of sight, but they were too far away and it was much too dark to make them out. She squeezed her eyes shut yet again, feigning unconsciousness.

"—had an agreement and you _know_ that," the first person spoke in a bold tone. He was clearly agitated in some way. "I brought the girl to you. You had better keep your promise, old man."

Rogue could've sworn that she had heard that voice before. Somewhere, somewhere… It seemed so familiar. But in her current state, she couldn't, for the life of her, place a face to that voice.

"Don't you worry, you poor fool," the second voice reverberated deeply throughout the room. "I _always_ keep my promises. The girl's incompetent comrades should be here soon. In a matter of hours, you will have what you so desire."

Rogue couldn't help but squirm on the floor at the sound of such a cold, bloodless voice. She hoped that the two strangers wouldn't notice her fidgeting.

There was a sudden sharp intake of breath, and then…

"I think our pitifully pathetic prisoner has finally decided to awaken."

_Damn._ Rogue's heart sped up as she took in the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way in her direction.

"Careful, her powers may kill you," the first voice said quickly.

"Don't you worry about me, lad. I'd be more worried about _her_."

Her eyes flew open as she felt herself being roughly pulled up into a sitting position by powerful hands clad in black, ominous-looking leather gloves. Seconds later, a man's face appeared just inches from hers, intimidating and almost zombie-like.

She realised who it was almost instantly. And she would've screamed, if it weren't for the grubby rag in her mouth that prevented her from doing so. She was face-to-face with Ezekiel Blacken himself.

_This must mean I've been…_ Rogue's eyes widened in realisation. _Shit._

The man gave her a broad smile. But there was nothing remotely friendly about it. "Hello, my mutant friend. Nice of you to finally join us."

Despite the fear and unease hidden deep inside her, she managed to direct a glare full of hatred and contempt at the man in front of her. It wasn't like she could say anything anyway. If she could, she wouldn't have been able to bite back an acid comment about how ugly he looked.

Blacken leered at the helpless girl before him, his eyes glittering on the edge of insanity. "Finally," he continued softly, ignoring the defiant stare from Rogue, "I've always wanted to meet one of Xavier's prized… _X-Men_." He licked his lips almost joyously and Rogue recoiled in disgust.

"You're my hostage as of now," Blacken went on, reaching into his back pocket with one hand. Rogue's eyes widened as she watched him leisurely pull out a knife and wave it in front of her face. Its metallic blade reflected what little light there was in the dark room.

_Fuck. He's going to kill me!_

Blacken twirled the blade expertly between his gloved fingers, smirking as he noticed the horror written all over Rogue's ashen face. "When your friends arrive in their vain attempts to steal you back," he growled, "I'll kill them _all_. Their valiant efforts of a rescue mission will all be for naught."

He looked at her, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "But for now," he said at last, "I'll at least grant you some comfort within this room. Before I kill you as well."

Blacken grabbed her arms from behind her back and dexterously slashed at the rope binding Rogue's wrists. The cord untwined and dropped to the ground, and she regained the use of her hands. Massaging her sore wrists, she instantly realised that her hands weren't gloved.

Without thinking, without hesitating, she did the one thing that came to her mind. Jerking forward impulsively, she reached out her hands and placed them both over Blacken's face in a pathetic attempt to suck the life out of him.

The man snarled. "What the hell do you think you're _doing_, you stupid child?" he yelled deafeningly, struggling to get out of her grip.

But Rogue held on firmly, a grim, uncomprehending expression on her face.

"Are you trying to _kill_ yourself?" Blacken screamed. "Do you truly want to _die_ so badly?" He pried Rogue's hands off his face, her nails raking down his cheeks, and then he pulled back and slapped her harshly in anger and rage.

Rogue cried out in pain, one hand going up to meet her stinging cheek. Already, it was starting to swell. And she looked back at the infuriated man, staring at her handiwork. Apart from the scratches she had caused, which were bleeding profusely, the man seemed unharmed. Unscathed. Unhurt. He seemed…

_Untouched_.

Worse still, Rogue realised that she hadn't absorbed any memories, any feelings… _anything,_ from this man. He _was_ untouched. By her powers.

No… It can't… He can't be… 

Blacken raised his arm again to strike her.

And only one thing registered in her mind before it went dark.

_He's… not… human. Stay away… John…_

-

All through the painstakingly slow Blackbird flight to the Woodbridge Mental Asylum, John had kept largely to himself. Which wasn't a difficult feat because everyone left him well alone with his beloved lighter, knowing that he wasn't much in the mood for civilised conversation just about then. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd just give them a short, snappy reply equivalent to giving them the finger.

He cast a sideways glance at the woman who sat across the aisle from him. Raven Darkholme's pale skin and gleaming, jet-black hair looked out of the ordinary to John. He was never used to seeing her without blue skin and neon eyes, that is if she wasn't someone else entirely. For a long while, she'd been looking out the tiny window overlooking city buildings and skyscrapers in an almost bored manner, until she realised she was being watched. Turning, she held John's gaze with a level stare.

John shrugged and turned back to his zippo, not caring in the least that Bobby and Kitty weren't appreciating the noise he was making.

_Can this stupid jet go any _slower?

He tried to calm his nerves. His anxiety was getting the better of him. It was making him unnecessarily moody and irritable. But why wouldn't he be? Rogue was out there, somewhere, _without him_. And he hated it whenever she wasn't in his line of sight.

"Hey, Kid. Could you _stop_ that incessant racket with that toy of yours? It's giving me a headache."

John raised an eyebrow, looking to the co-pilot seat where Logan sat, and scowled sullenly. _It's not my fault you can hear a pin drop from a mile away. _He pocketed his lighter reluctantly.

"We'll be approaching our destination soon," Storm announced.

_Finally._

Minutes before their destination came into view, Storm activated the Blackbird's stealth mechanism, shielding the jet from the vision of anyone who might be looking into the sky at that moment.

The asylum was located away from prying eyes on the outskirts of the city, in the middle of a huge cluster of trees that resembled a quiet, isolated forest. From the sky, it looked more like a haunted prison that wouldn't have been out of place in a ghost story rather than an actual mental institution to John. Then again, it _was_ meant for demolition more than ten years ago.

Storm circled high overhead once, ensuring there wasn't an ambush waiting for them on the ground, nor any anti-aircraft defences that would jeopardise their rescue mission. Satisfied, she manoeuvred the Blackbird to land at a safe distance from the enemy's headquarters on a clear patch of ground. The only other thing in their view, apart from trees and shrubbery, was the asylum.

It looked for all the world like someone's idea of a death trap.

As the engines to the jet quietened down and were finally cut, its occupants unbuckled themselves from their seats and prepared for conflict.

_And so, the game begins. I'm coming… Marie._

_---_

_-A/N-: THERE. It is done. Although it was rather short… And I suppose that without all the continuous support from readers out there, this chapter wouldn't have made it out till… next Christmas or something. I guess those threats DID come in useful, eh? Hah._

_To the loyal readers, new and old, who reviewed chapter 25 (namely **RedMagic, zshp1411, Alexandra-Black, Fallen Heart, Dementa, PsYcHoThErApY, TPolTucker, Cestari, hollyparker, BrownEyedAngel14, we-r-the-cure, Tiniwiel, blonde-gal, 6481, Psyc0gurl0, xLiLix, yaba, Fangirl of all Fangirls, SupportSeverusSnape, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Dama Jade, Semmit, Angelic.Dark, tHe TrUtH about RoSeS, secondrate, MySunshine, SingingInMySleep, xXnarutofan-22Xx, Dawns Heart, Obiwanfan, BizarreLemon, SamanthaMT, the sillylittlepanda, MorbidSeraph, Elrrina, wingedraksha, Carline** and **Ambaron Luxuria**), I have only one thing to say: I LOVE YOU GUYS._

_I'll do review responses in my next chapter. I promise._

_For now, just wait as John and the X-Men (and Mags and Mystique) arrive to save the day!_


	27. XXVII: Fatal Conflict

_-A/N-: __It's always the case, isn't it? When you get to the juicy bits in the story, the author always has to get sidetracked and totally distracted by something else… For more than half a year. Yeah, sorry this has been put off for so long! Sorry, sorry, sorry! If it's any consolation, this is a __**mega-long **__chapter._

_This chapter was not beta'd, so grammatical mistakes and typos were my fault and mine alone. And it's definitely my fault if you guys have forgotten half of what this is about! Apologies!_

_**WARNING: We may or may not see **__**character deaths**__** past this point. **_

---

"Sundown's not in another three hours, so we've got plenty of time, but I'll bet they'll be expecting us sooner than later," Logan commented as all of them silently descended the lowered ramp that led out of the Blackbird. "_They_ being Blacken and his little gang of followers of course," the Wolverine added distastefully.

"A lot can happen in three hours," Mystique pointed out, her appearance rapidly changing into that of the familiar, blue, reptilian shape-shifter they all knew. There was no reason for her to remain looking like a normal human anymore if they were going to trespass on unfriendly territory.

"This trap is much too obvious," Magneto said after a moment of silence whilst they gathered at the bottom of the aircraft and surveyed the lifeless prison-like asylum before them. "But as obvious as it may be, we have to proceed with caution. We're dealing with a man who has made it abundantly clear that he has no qualms concerning murder, much less the murder of our race. We're dealing with a man who knows what he's doing."

John did not feel much like proceeding with caution, truth be told. All he wanted to do, really, was to bust into the forsaken building, get Rogue, light Blacken on fire, and then get the hell out. Rescuing Pietro was purely optional. But, he knew that Magneto was right to say they had to come up with a sort of plan or this operation would most likely end in catastrophe. John realised that his own scheme was flawed anyway; from where he stood, he knew that the asylum was way too huge a place to conduct a one-man search. In a tiny clearing, untouched by the greenery surrounding it, the building stood, like a looming four-storey effigy out of a horror movie. Its greying walls and broken windows contrasted starkly with the forestry around them. It looked almost surreal and haunted, and _definitely_ uninviting. _Out-of-its-damn-place would be the correct term,_ John realised dourly, checking to see if his, or rather, Rogue's lighter was still with him _and_ that his igniter was well-strapped around his wrist.

"I hope Rogue and Pietro aren't… aren't hurt or anything," Kitty managed to mumble under her breath quietly.

John ground his teeth in frustration. _If anyone so much as lays a finger on Marie…_

"Rogue's a strong girl," Bobby's self-assured voice interrupted John's train of thought, "I'm sure she's fine. As for Pietro, I have no idea how he got himself kidnapped in the fist place, having powers such as his."

_What if…_ John thought to himself dismally, wondering for a few moments, then shook himself mentally. _There was no way the kid would… Nah._

"It doesn't look like anyone's coming out to greet us," Storm remarked, gesturing towards the large, corroded, metal doors that could only be the entryway into the mental institute. John was surprised that the doors still remained standing upright on its hinges, considering the condition it was in. It could have been more than half a century old for all he knew, judging by the black-brown rust layering the thick steel. Just above the door hung a large, tarnished, chrome plaque that read _'Welcome to the Woodbrige Mental Institution'._

John couldn't help but agree that this was definitely where one such as Ezekiel Blacken would dwell.

"Chances are they're waiting for us on the _inside_," Mystique replied the weather-manipulator. "Then, it would at least be easier for them to surround and ambush us."

"Makes sense," Logan muttered.

"Think we can just walk in?" Bobby wondered aloud. "That door doesn't look like it would open on its own to let us through."

His innocent question was answered seconds later.

_CREEEE-K._

Everyone in the group flinched as a sudden, ear-splitting screech of crunching metal filled the still air of silence, causing a flock of startled birds to leave the sanctuary of the treetops and take off into the blue distance in a flurry of terrified feathers. The front doors seemed, right now, to be folding into itself. It was being crumpled with ease like a piece of particularly fragile tin foil.

John looked around at Magneto—the only one who hadn't flinched at the unexpected racquet—and wasn't at all surprised to find the man with one hand outstretched and a look of concentration directed at the doors ahead.

A small smile, a final sweep with his arm, and the rust-coated steel doors blew inward through the entryway of the building, smashing anything that would have stood in its way.

A brief moment of silence passed.

"And what the hell happened to the '_proceed with caution_' bit?" Mystique bit out acidly, glaring pointedly at Magneto, patience with the man steadily running thin.

"That, my dear, was to ensure our entrance would be clear and free of anyone who might be waiting to welcome us from behind them," he gestured brusquely at his handiwork, now nothing but a heap of metal not in the least resembling a door resting within the building, a few feet from where it stood moments before. "For all you know, the place could be crawling with people who want to kill us."

"Your little _Imploding-The-Enemy's-Door_ stunt also managed to ensure that Blacken knows that we're at his doorstep!" the shape-shifter retorted hotly.

"Well, the man _is_ expecting us. Might as well make an impressive, if not _daunting_, entrance," his voice rose dangerously, "to remind him just _who_ he's up against… And _who_ we are."

John couldn't help but agree with his former leader. And even Logan had nothing to say to that.

Mystique opened her mouth, ready to say something to rebuke the man for his proclamation, but quickly decided against it and turned away from him.

"So, are we going to enter the place or stand here just looking at it? I would like to get in there and look for Rogue, preferably _not_ sometime next century," John said loudly then.

"Patience was never one of your strongest virtues, Pyro," Magneto muttered wryly, "And I would like to think that not all of us are here just because of _her_."

"I don't know, your son seemed to have a little father-hating complex before he went missing," Logan said rather doubtfully and more out of malevolence than anything else. "Think that'll change when he sees that you've come to save him?"

"That doesn't matter to me anymore. I know I'm not fit to be called his father; I haven't been for quite some time now. But if this gives me a fair chance to right some of the wrongs I've done and atone for some of the mistakes I've made, then I'll take it."

John was pretty sure that he had never heard, nor seen, this much raw emotion in Erik Lensherr, ever; apart from when openly showing his passion to set human-kind straight. It was then that the pyrokinetic manipulator realised, with some regard, that he—the one whom people quite often thought of to have a heart of steel—was quite an emotional and expressive man.

"Okay, yeah, whatever," Logan's gruff voice hid his growing deference for the metal manipulating mutant. "Like the kid said, let's finish what we came here to do. And maybe take down Blacken while we're at it as well. At least that would put us at peace once and for all."

That seemed to stir the crowd of them.

"Well, let's get going then," Storm said hurriedly, leading the way towards the mental institute, making straight for the doorless front entrance.

"Be on your guard," Magneto advised the others warningly as he followed after Storm.

Logan grunted as he started to walk. "What harm could they do to us? We've got," he counted, "seven of us in total, all powerful enough - and hopefully sensible enough," he glanced at Bobby, Kitty and John, "to know how to keep out of danger."

"Ah yes, one that controls the weather, one that manipulates metal, one that creates ice out of thin air, one that walks through walls, one who can set the place on fire, one with exceptionally sharp claws, and of course, _me_… I believe we do have a formidable team." Mystique tutted.

"Hopefully, it's enough," Bobby said quietly to Kitty and John, who were the last to follow the rest of the party into the foreboding building.

John cast one final glance upward at the hundreds of dark, shattered windows that looked for all the world like the soulless, vacant eyes of a zombie, before entering the asylum with the rest of his team.

On the contrary to what Magneto had said before about the place crawling with people wanting to kill them, there was no one to be seen as they walked through the doorway. An empty reception desk stood to one side, half-destroyed by the flying door. A stairwell that led upstairs could be seen from where they were further down the hall.

They stopped there at the foyer. The interior looked more like a dingy, darkened ballroom complete with grubby carpets and a dusty chandelier, instead of the den of an evil extremist group. Which was quite surprising, judging from the outward prison-like appearance. John supposed that the reception area was probably all for show and that the upper levels, which no doubt had lodged the mental patients were more jail-like.

"The place doesn't seem too heavily guarded," Logan noted, sniffing the air and straining his ears. He couldn't hear a damn thing; other than themselves, the place seemed deserted and uninhabited, even to the Wolverine.

"Maybe it's a trap," Bobby muttered, looking around nervously, fingers twitching to freeze something.

"That's because, like I've already said before: it _is_ a trap," Magneto replied calmly, as though speaking to a child.

"Alright," Storm spoke up, "Hank McCoy said that the blueprints to this place indicate a stairway that leads to an underground basement somewhere around here. The best thing we could do is split up. It'll be less time-consuming and much easier to search the place this way." She gestured indicatively, "Logan, you take Bobby, John and Kitty and search the lower level of the building. The rest of us will look above ground."

"Why do I _not_ have a say in this?" John protested, not really liking the idea of going below ground to look for Rogue. What were the chances of actually finding her _there_?

"Because," Storm said testily, rounding on John, "I was put in charge of this operation. If anything happened to you, to _any_ of you, I'll be accountable for your unthinking, reckless conduct."

John rolled his eyes._ Of course._

"You know, it was exactly this sort of regulatory pushiness that made him leave you people in the first place," Mystique sniffed. "We were more… liberal with our thinking."

"You mean you Brotherhood people didn't care if anyone got killed in your campaigns," Logan corrected bluntly.

Mystique turned to stare at Logan, realising that she had included herself with _the Brotherhood_, and was not sure whether to tell him that yes, it didn't matter who lived or died as long as they fought for a cause, or to tell him that no, the Brotherhood was no more and she wanted to have nothing to do with them because their leader left her to die.

"Can we stop this pointless wrangling?" Magneto's humourless voice cut through the brief hush. "We'll take the woman's suggestion and get going."

"Fine with me," Bobby murmured, and Kitty nodded in agreement. John couldn't help but notice that she was sticking close to the Iceman, who was probably the only person she felt most comfortable with in the group. Of course, John knew that he'd had dealings with Kitty 'Shadowcat' Pryde in the past way back when he was still an actual student at the mansion, but they were never really close. In fact, neither of them really acknowledged each other's existence until a heated discussion between them ensued down one of the hallways in the school one day which began with a simple '_could you please stop walking through the damn walls all the damn time?'_

_That_ had been the day Kitty Pryde really took any notice of John Allerdyce. That day was also a very long time ago. And really, the Kitty of today would no doubt say that _that_ John has changed a great deal. Although for better or for worse, she couldn't quite figure out yet.

"Right, c'mon kids," Logan said, turning and heading off in a direction that he hoped would successfully direct him to the staircase that would lead down to the basement. "Try not to kill anyone if you don't have to," he added gruffly.

"And if any of us runs into Blacken?" John asked as he, Bobby and Kitty trailed behind.

_Snikt._ "Kill him," the man growled.

"Full of contradictions," Magneto muttered quietly to himself, watching the four of them leave and trying to hide his annoyance. Of course, the old man knew that when the situation came, he would not hesitate to kill Blacken himself.

The old man then turned and headed to the stairwell that lead upstairs, not bothering to tell the other two women to follow him despite knowing that Storm deemed herself the rightful overseer of the pact, or at least _thought_ she was. She would just have to share the title with him then. After all, Erik Lensherr was never one to be called a follower, but always a _leader_. He would definitely have preferred to have Pyro in his little group instead of Storm, really. But he supposed it didn't matter. And if they _did_ manage to recover his son, it was all for the better that Pyro weren't there with him. Magneto still hadn't forgotten what the distraught boy had said about Pyro being more of a son to him than _he_ did. Those words stung. Badly.

As he climbed the stairs, Ororo Munroe and Raven Darkholme in his wake, he told himself that once they got out of this, he would make it up to Pietro. In whatever way possible.

The first floor was filled with numerous hospital-esque corridors with numbered doors leading to patient wards. The place was old, dim and shadowy... And much too quiet for Magneto's liking, truth be told. But he didn't voice his growing misgiving about the whole situation.

They combed the first storey in silence without much success in finding anything remotely _alive_, which definitely set Mystique on edge. From what they could tell from the empty rooms they explored, they all looked to be virtually unused since the day the building was set to be demolished.

The second floor didn't look much different. In fact, it was almost a carbon copy of the previous floor. Magneto decided to do some searching on his own instead of sticking with the other two. They could take care of themselves, he reasoned.

The man finally came to a large room that seemed to be the only one in the place so far that looked like it had been utilized. A desk, two chairs, a lamp, and a sizable window to the left corner of the room. Stepping further in and kicking up a storm of dust from the filthy floor, he could make out the forest and the looming figure of the Blackbird through the misty panes of the glass. From what he could make out of the sunlight shining through the dirty glass, it was well past midday.

He had better find Pietro soon. And Blacken. He _definitely_ wanted to find Blacken. And exterminate him.

"Looking for me?" a slick voice from the doorway startled Magneto into spinning around on the spot.

_Speak of the devil. _Magneto was stunned for more than just a split second.

There were two people standing by the entryway looking back at him. Both of them, he readily recognised. One of them was Ezekiel Blacken… and the other surprised him even more, if that was worse. And judging by the look _she_ was giving him, this situation did not at all bode well for the magnetokinetic.

"_You!_" he managed to choke out, not sure what else to say. "You're _alive_!" And he hoped that his voice was loud enough to travel down the hallway and reach the ears of Mystique and Storm before something unpleasant happened.

"Yeah. Is that so very surprising… _boss_?"

Magneto did not much want to know the hows and the whys of how she came to be alive and well and clearly working for the man she now stood beside. "What have you done to my son?" he demanded rather forcefully instead.

"Done to your son?" Blacken seemed amused. "You should ask him. But then again, I suppose you wouldn't be able to, seeing as you've just encountered a serious problem." Pause. "_Me_."

Then, in a flash—a mere span of two seconds or maybe even less—Magneto found himself crumpling to the ground, the wind knocked out of him painfully. And he didn't have to be the genius he was to figure out that this was all planned from the beginning and that he was stupid to have not remained together with the others. His vision went dark momentarily, capturing the face of his assailant in a frozen picture. And the very last thing the metal manipulator was to hear was the weakening of his ragged breathing, the loud pounding of his heart, and the distant cackle that belonged to Ezekiel Blacken.

"I knew you had your uses," Blacken nodded approvingly to his accomplice. "Now, with that taken care of," the man said, walking up to Magneto's unmoving form and smiling an impious smile, "let me take what I need from this man before his two companions arrive."

---

A few corridors away, Mystique and Storm were about to enter what seemed like their thirtieth room that day when muffled sounds caught their attention. It sounded like conversation. Voices.

Storm looked at Mystique, who looked back unblinkingly as they realised whose voice they were hearing.

"Magneto!"

And they ran.

And they never stopped running until they came to the room with the door wide open in inauspicious welcome; the room with their fallen comrade and two other people they didn't quite want to see at that moment in time.

"Took you girls long enough," Blacken crowed from where he stood at the far end of the room as soon as the two entered.

Mystique and Storm's eyes fell on Magneto, who lay lifeless on the ground. And the blue shape-shifter inhaled sharply, clenching a fist.

"What have you _done_?" she hissed with venom, eyes narrowing and heart rate doubling… And half-hoping, half-pleading, inwardly that _Erik Lensherr_ was not possibly _dead_. The notion of him lying on the floor looking like he _was_ was just… _absurd_.

Storm, on the other hand however, had other fears. Her eyes widened when she looked to the other individual in the room. The female.

The same dark eyes, same dark hair, same dark skin and unquestionably, the very same wicked smirk.

And Storm almost completely forgot that Blacken was standing there in the same room with them and that they were all in an asylum, for that matter.

"It can't be!"

"And why not?" her assumed-dead archrival asked, raising an eyebrow.

Storm was dumbfounded. "But I thought I – you…!"

"You thought you zapped me dead?" Callisto laughed a cackling laugh, "You're such a fool." Her smile widened. "You did it once remember? Before that big showdown at Alcatraz. And I didn't die, did I? What made you think doing it a _second time_ would be any different?"

"But I saw you! You weren't moving!" Storm was partially outraged and just more than a little apprehensive. Her worried frown caused Callisto to widen her grin.

"Yeah. Ever heard of 'playing dead'? Once you left, I got up two seconds later and ran for cover since just about everyone on the island was about to be decimated. I was injured, of course, but not dead. And let me tell you, electrocution hurts like a bitch."

"Girls, girls! Play nice," Black chided.

"How can you be working under _him_?" Storm asked accusingly and sceptically at the same time. "Blacken wants the mutant race wiped off the face of the earth! He's human! Not mutant!"

"Quite the opposite, actually," Blacken interjected casually.

There was a short pause as his words sank in.

"What have you done to him?" Mystique's voice finally broke the silence. It was bleak, cold, harsh. She had crossed over to where Magneto lay, whilst Storm and Callisto had been getting reacquainted, and was now kneeling by his side. She looked for signs of a heartbeat. There was none. She looked back up at the man who did this, the hatred already building inside her at an alarming pace.

"You want to know that badly?" Blacken asked, an eyebrow cocked. "Well then, _my dear_, let me _demonstrate_." He raised both arms, as though preparing to conduct an instrumental ensemble.

There was a shrill, deafening sound of glass cracking and metal bending, which caused Storm and Mystique to swing around to the left just in time to see the opaque panes of the only window in the room shatter into a million pieces and a stake of metal tear itself from its large frame clean off the concrete wall with a thunderous grate.

Mystique's eyes widened as the jagged, broken chunk of metal came hurtling towards her with lightning speed. She dove to one side, barely avoiding being impaled on the spot in time, and heard the heavy makeshift javelin smash to the ground where she had been standing just seconds before in a ringing chaos of noise. It ground to a halt against the one of the four walls.

Blacken smirked, satisfied. "Don't you know?" he said to them then as the shape-shifter picked herself up. "My skin… is _poison_." The man's eyes glittered vindictively, as though what he had just revealed was the biggest and darkest secret in the world. Then, he laughed and turned to leave. "Take care of these two," he said to Callisto, exiting through the door, "And then kill the boy. He's useless to us now. After all, with the father gone, his part of the deal no longer exists."

---

"This seems too… weird," Logan's voice echoed through the basement in which all four of them had just stepped into after descending the stairs they had found a while ago. "Where the hell are the _people_? I thought this was the headquarters that housed these _Eradicators_. And weren't they _expecting_ us?"

John rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Are you _that_ eager to start a fight?"

Large gas tanks and canisters lined the far end of the basement, and a massive sign that read _**DANGER; FIRE HAZARD**_ was nailed to the wall above the lot of them. It made the place seem more like a large, underground boiler room—unusual for an asylum undeniably. John couldn't help but give the warning sign an odd look. If anything, _he_ was the fire hazard here.

Even so, he conceded that the damned catacomb was, without doubt, a dangerous place to be.

Well, the basement seemed empty enough apart from the gas canisters. It was a vast garage-type space that could easily accommodate a dozen parked cars. The other three walls that enclosed the area were bare apart from a few closed doors. Storage rooms, most likely. There were easily about six or seven doors that led to separate rooms that he could discern in the dim light available.

The Wolverine, Iceman and Shadowcat had already begun their wordless search around the parameter. John figured he'd best try one of the doors like what the rest were doing if he were going to get anywhere. The one to his right was unlocked, so he opened it, took a look at the interior, and deemed it safe to enter.

From what he could tell from the little light filtering through door he just stepped through, which barely lit the dark room, it was unfurnished and empty and definitely void of life. All he could make out were the grey-brown walls, paint peeling with age.

He sighed despondently.

_Rogue… Marie… Where the heck are you?_

He realised she'd been out of his sight for almost twenty-four hours straight now and he wasn't sure she'd be alright anymore. _She's strong,_ he tried to assure himself, recalling that Bobby had said the same thing before they came into this accursed place. _She's a strong girl. She… Oh, God, once I get my hands on that fuckin' kidnapper, I swear I'm gonna' fucking burn him…_

He composed himself quickly, silently declared that there was nothing remotely interesting about the room he was in, and walked back out into the main chamber of the basement once more, ready to try another one of the rooms. Logan, Bobby and Kitty were searching around other parts of the large basement, echoes reverberating through the large antechamber, and he could hear the trying of locked doors and the disappointed sighs following their discoveries of _nothing_.

With each passing moment, John grew increasingly certain that the search here would account for naught and that they would have much more luck helping the other group explore the upper floors of the building.

He tried the door to his left, pleased to find it wasn't bolted shut. The knob turned smoothly enough on the contrary, quite unlike some of the other doors he had tried; they seemed to have not been used in years. Stepping through, he also realised just how small and compact and _different_ this room was in comparison with the others. Sure, it was dark and musty and unused for ages, just like the rest, but tall, dark shelves lined every wall ominously and the place seemed to suffocate him. He was already starting to feel claustrophobic.

His eyes darted around, searching the darkness, and they landed on a large filing cabinet, rusted and dust-covered from years of neglect, which stood at the very far end of the tiny room. And there, sitting against that very filing cabinet, slumped in what John was sure was an extremely uncomfortable position, with her head bowed and eyes closed, was Rogue, still clad in her sleeved nightdress which was now clearly rumpled and creased and covered in gray patches of dust.

"Oh, Goddammit. Fuck!" John flew across the room and knelt down beside the girl's unmoving figure. "Jesus. Rogue!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her as hard as he dared to go, "Rogue!" he said again, his voice urgent and desperate. "Get up, Marie! Open your eyes!"

Moments passed. And at last, as though stirring from a deep sleep, Rogue's eyes cracked open and John let loose a relieved sigh. When she finally recognised him, her eyes widened with unfeigned horror, nowhere near the welcoming and thankful expression John first expected.

"What're you doing here?" she whispered urgently, wanting so much to yell. Her voice was hoarse and dry. "Get out! It's a trap! You shouldn't have come… You-!"

"Shh… We've come here to get you back."

But Rogue shook her head violently. "No. You shouldn't be here! It's a trap, John! Why did you _come_?" she demanded angrily, half-delirious.

"Hey, listen," he said defiantly, gripping her by a sleeved arm in an attempt to calm her down. "I would never leave you to the hands of this psycho killer bastard," he paused, looking at her pointedly, "And neither would any of your other friends from the mansion," he found himself saying. "You're one of the few people I care about, Marie. And when I say one of the few, I mean the _only one_."

Rogue quietened, her ragged breathing returning to normal. She shut her eyes jadedly, unable to say more.

"Now, are you okay?" John asked quickly, his eyes roaming her body, checking for any signs of injury or open wounds.

"I'm fine. Just… my head hurts a little."

John's eyes snapped up to her pale face, landing on a huge bruise on her forehead; the very bruise that resulted from someone hitting her over the head in the mansion kitchens, rendering her unconscious. He brought a hand up and gently brushed her limp, silver-white locks of hair away from the bruise.

"Shit… it looks bad," John breathed, his fingers lightly tracing the angrily-purpled skin. "Who the hell did this to you? Blacken?" he demanded, searching for another reason to add to his 'Why I Want To Kill That Bastard' list.

"John…" Rogue said quietly, wanting to reach for his hand and clutch it tight, in hopes of getting him to pay attention to what she was saying and not her bruises. But she realised once more that she did not have her gloves on and touching him in any way would be impossible. "We have to get out of here before he comes back. Before… Oh, no. No, no, no, _no_," Rogue murmured, as though suddenly remembering something. "John, we can't stay here. _We have to go_." _Ezekiel__ Blacken is not who you think he is._

"But, the others are still looking for Pietro…" _And I need to set things straight with the man behind all this._

Pietro. Pietro. _Pietro._

Rogue felt like she had been slapped. Why hadn't she realised it sooner? Why hadn't she recognised that voice? _Why?_

"John, he's not who you think he is," Rogue said, voice suddenly low and shaky.

"What…?"

"BLACKEN IS NOT WHO YOU THINK HE IS!" her voice rose, octaves climbing precariously, "HE'S NOT HUMAN." Pause. Inhale. Exhale. "He's a… he's one of _us_."

Silence.

Footsteps could be heard now, hurried and intense, and they resonated through the hallway outside, getting closer with each passing second. John didn't have to guess that Logan, Kitty and Bobby were running in their general direction. But at the moment, he was still trying to grasp and comprehend just what Rogue had told him.

Blacken was a mutant? But then why-

"Did I just hear… Rogue!" Logan yelled as he rounded the corner with the other two and his eyes fell upon her frail, vulnerable figure.

"Thank God we found you!" Bobby sounded a little more than relieved and rushed forward to kneel next to a thoroughly vexed John just to ensure that she was _real _and she was really _there_.

"Is she alright?" Kitty exclaimed, all kinds of apprehension written on her almost paper-white face.

"I'm fine," Rogue said quickly, panic and dread rising in her voice once more. If they were to remain here any longer… "We've got to get going. We can't stay here," she grounded out, trying to pick herself off the ground.

John grabbed her by the arm firmly, telling himself that the questions could wait. "Can you stand?" he asked.

Rogue nodded. She was not bound nor gagged anymore, she should be able to stand upright.

"We'll get her to the Blackbird," Logan was saying as John and Bobby carefully helped her to her feet. "Then we'll come back for the others."

Rogue tensed. "There are _others_?"

"Yeah. Storm, Magneto and Mystique," Logan replied, guiding them out of the room quickly and back out into the central part of the basement.

"_What?_" Rogue was incredulous, "We've got to get them out of this place! They'll all… They're in _danger_!"

"But what about Pietro?" Kitty voiced, looking concerned and a little anxious at how terrified and how _vulnerable_ Rogue looked at the moment.

"Forget about Pietro!"

"Huh?"

"There's no time to explain! Just... Oh."

Rogue's expression changed completely as she looked to where their escape route was; the stairway that led up to the ground floor. Her expression was one of resolute horror and defeat.

The others turned to stare.

There, blocking their only exit, stood the man behind it all; behind the murders of Tabitha Smith, Warren Worthington the Second, Amara Aquilla and Lance Alvers, behind the theft of the Cure sample from Worthington Laboratories, behind the kidnapping of Marie D'Ancanto… and behind the death of Erik Lensherr.

Ezekiel Blacken smiled. And it was not a pleasant one.

---

_-A/N-: ASDFGHKOMG!CLIFFHANGER!!!NOOO._

_And I shall now break down and cry for the next hour or so for killing off one of my favourite characters (whom I, admittedly, __**never**__ liked until I started writing this fic)._

_Erm… I had a weird thought the other day: I wonder what it would be like if Stranger were put to screen and turned into a movie. Haha. 'Twould be darn cool._

_Here are the review responses to the chapter previous chapter that I promised 6 months ago (runs and hides from oncoming tomatoes and eggs being thrown at her):_

_**Dama Jade: **__LOL. I'm back (again). I hope this chapter actually made up for the long wait._

_**Psyc0gurl: **__You sensing an end to this story is about right. There are less than half a dozen chapters more to go. I wonder if you'd prefer a bad ending or a good ending, although I've already locked the final chapter in stone… And there should be a sequel (if I don't turn lazy again)._

_**Alexandra-Black:**__ Wow, you were pretty close about one thing in your review about what's gonna' happen in the end… And I wonder if you're still reading this. Haha. Thanks for reviewing anyhow! You're great!_

_**SkyRogue: **__Yay! Pleased to meet you! And since I'm replying to your first ever review, welcome aboard the Stranger ship! Although I may be saying this a little too late… And woohoo, you're a Ryro shipper! Glad this fic was of help in turning you into one. :)_

_**MorbidSeraph: **__Spoilers? It wouldn't take a lot of money to buy them off me. LOL. Just kidding._

_**PsychoTherapy: **__Guh. You're probably mad at me for not updating for so long. _

_**we-r-the-cure: **__YOU WERE RIGHT! The inside man was Pietro. Looks like you picked up on it pretty well. Haha._

_**Growl Snarl: **__You asked a great deal of questions in that review. Hmm, I hope that you finally know why Rogue claimed than Blacken wasn't human; it's 'cause he's a __**MUTANT**__. Is he a hypocritical bastard? Maybe. The next chapter should sort that out. And yes, Quicksilver made a deal with the devil, but Magneto wouldn't be able to confront his son about that now, would he? Being dead and all… :( _

_**ShadowWren: **__THANK YOU. Yes, tying up the loose ends of X3 was the main objective of this fic. And I wonder if I've done a good enough job on it. Anyway, I'm flattered that you think this is one of the best Ryro fics out there. Means a great deal to me. (Big, cheesy grin)_

_**the sillylittlepanda: **__Your review was THE review that prompted me to get off my butt and write this chapter after the long 6-month hiatus. GO YOU! I guess it seemed as though I needed more encouragement to finish what I started. Haha, thanks! And no, Blacken was not an alien as you initially remarked. LOL. Imagine if he was, though…_

_To the rest who reviewed chapter 26, both new readers and old, namely: __**0-Jackie-0,**__**Sublime Angel, **__**carter13, Ambaron Luxuria, reviewer, Wildcat Black Ranger, Built on the Horizon, verdant quest, Dementa, Black Sorceress, Obiwanfan, Nahirta, Ranawe217, xLiLix, AGirlBrushedRed, Chica De Los Ojos Café, TPolTucker, RedMagic, roguelane, **__**Carline, Elirrina, kahjit, **__**starlit.kiss7**__… THANKS FOR THE CONTINUED SUPPORT._

_And, as always, constructive criticism, reviews and/or cookies are always welcome._


	28. XXVIII: Edge of Sanity

_-A/N-: I'll be doing review replies first. This will (most likely) be the last time I'll be replying to any of your reviews as there are only a couple of chapters until the end of this sequel (finally). However, feel free to send me a PM or email if you feel like asking any questions pertaining to the Stranger saga. I will guarantee a reply, even if it's hate-mail or a flame. Don't be shy! I love responding to emails and such as it makes me happy to communicate with my readers on a deeper level. _

_You can still drop a review if you wish; they are still very welcome. ANYWAY, THIS FIC IS OFFICIALLY ONE YEAR AND 48 DAYS OLD._

_**lets go for life wont wait:**__ Hmm, yes, I should have put more Ryro action in the last chapter, and I regret not doing so. But of course, they were all just too worried about everything else happening around them that I doubt romance would have been on their minds at that moment. The last chapter was meant to shed more light on the whole situation concerning the bad guys. Despite this fic being of the angst/romance genre, it looks like it's turning into a mildly action/adventure fic!_

_**we-r-the-cure: **__I didn't want to kill Mags! I loved him too:( Well, hopefully this long chapter makes up for his death. And yeah, Pietro… tsk tsk… The kid has obviously been very hurt by what Mags did in the past. Can't blame him much. I have plans to do a short fic relating to the Stranger-verse about Quicksilver's past though. It could very well detail his life and explain a few things…_

_**SkyRogue:**__ The wait wasn't too long, I hope! Mmm, Magneto's death didn't affect you much? What are you, inhuman? Haha, nah, I never liked him at first either. But then his character just grew on me and I think he deserves credit for being such a powerful, upfront and honest mutant. Yes, Blacken has Rogue's powers too. After all, you can't say that no two mutants can have the same abilities! It's a small chance, but it's possible! I've never watched Heroes, though…_

_**Chica De Los Ojos Cafe:**__ Ezekiel Blacken's powers are similar to Rogue's (GASP!) which means he's been a mutant all along. This chapter will reveal why the man, despite being mutant, wants other mutants dead._

_**PyroWhore:**__ NEW REVIEWER! With an interesting penname! LOL. Well, I'm really glad you've enjoyed this fic thus far. It has been up for almost 14 whole months now, in case you wanted to know._

_**Psyc0gurl0:**__ Yes, a big showdown. Our X-Men/Brotherhood team will try to take down the evil Ezekiel Blacken once and for all in this chapter!_

_**TallLankyBitch:**__ Wow. I'm a fan of the good girl/bad boy thing too! Looks like we could be good friends. LOL. Anyways, thanks for joining us on the Stranger Saga boat! It's almost ending, but at this point in time, I'm definitely planning another sequel (as if one was enough!). Thanks for the review! Hope to hear more from you!_

_**the sillylittlepanda:**__ I FULLY AGREE WITH YOU THAT MAGNETO HAS BEEN REDEEMED. Oh yeah, I tried fixing up some (if not all) of the typos in the last chapter. LOL. I'm just a perfectionist sometimes. Aww, I love you too! Your review was a real morale booster!_

_**Alexandra-Black:**__ Yeah, Magneto's demise was sudden and unexpected. But now that he doesn't get to kick Blacken's ass, Pyro will probably do it for him, in honour of his death._

_**The Truth About Roses:**__ Pietro's main reason for doing what he did was mainly because he resented his father for abandoning him in the past. It doesn't have much to do with Pyro, but Pyro's existence does fuel his hatred even more. And don't worry, I won't be leaving you hanging for six months ever again. ;)_

_**carter13, coup fatal, Anigen:**__ THANKS FOR YOUR REVIEWS! THEY MEAN A LOT._

_**WARNING: Violence, death and all sorts of colourful language abound.**_

---

The dank, shady room, illuminated only by the little sunlight creeping in through the broken window, which was completely and utterly destroyed by the stunt that Blacken had pulled just minutes ago, seemed almost clammy and suffocating. Even though the room was, by and large, fairly big compared to the others they'd seen before, it now felt small and uncomfortable, as though somehow the walls were closing in on them.

Storm stood, stony-faced and silent, glaring daggers at Callisto, who had a self-absorbed smirk plastered on her dark face. She would have been quite pretty, Storm surmised unconsciously, but decided that the expression she wore at that moment took away any demure attractiveness she had.

Any one of them could have made the first move, really. But in this standstill – this sizing-up of each other – Storm realised that the girl was only _waiting_ for her to make that first move—to _start_ something.

'_Take care of these two. And then kill the boy. He's useless to us now. After all, with the father gone, his part of the deal no longer exists.'_

Storm recalled the last words out of Blacken's mouth and cast a cursory glance towards Mystique's prostrate form. The blue shape-shifter was still on her knees by her fallen comrade's side. There was no mistaking the grief and indignant sorrow on her face – she looked almost ready to break down in tears.

Storm couldn't help but feel sympathy for Mystique. For a fleeting instant, the weather manipulator was sure that the woman had always unconditionally held Erik Lensherr in high esteem, even though she had hated him after he had contemptuously dismissed her from the Brotherhood. Whether it was love or just purely respect and devotion, Storm did not know. What she did know, however, was that the woman was in no condition to fight back if Callisto was going to stay true to the Blacken's word of 'taking care' of them.

Magneto's death had been a slap in the face for Storm as it made her realise how dangerous the whole situation was. A million broken thoughts and emotions were racing through her mind whilst her staring competition with Callisto continued.

_Blacken was a mutant! But then, why in the world would he want to eliminate the rest of the our race? _It was something Storm was unable to answer unless she passed the man off as insane and genocidal. But then again, Callisto was working for him!_ And with what Blacken had said before, could Pietro have had something to do with it all as well?_ It made no sense! _And the others! The kids!_ It dawned on the weather manipulator that Blacken had probably gone to hunt down the others who were searching the lower part of the building. _Damn. They need to know that we're dealing with mutants and not homo sapiens!_

She needed to get to the rest, and _fast_.

If Callisto wasn't going to make the first move, then so be it! Storm's eyes clouded over quite suddenly and a blusterous gust of wind took over the room, seemingly to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Callisto tensed ever so slightly, eyes gleaming expectantly in the semi-darkness. And then, without prior warning, Storm let loose an immense web of lightning from her outstretched fingertips and directed them straight at the mutant before her without mercy.

The dazzling incandescence of the sparks of electricity – enough to probably power the whole building for at least a week – lit the room with a deafening clap of thunder. Callisto moved out of the way, her reflexes also, unfortunately, lightning fast. She had successfully managed to avoid the attack completely, much to Storm's chagrin.

"You've _definitely_ gotta' try something new, chica!" Callisto shouted conceitedly, letting loose a bark of laughter, "You're a Class Four! _Surely_ you can do better than that!"

Storm wasn't quite sure how the hell she knew _that_, but took this opportunity of communicative initiation to yell back, "Why are you doing this? Just what is that maniac _thinking_?!" in hopes of shedding some light on the whole situation.

Callisto didn't answer immediately, running straight for Storm at breakneck speed and backhanding her in the back of her head. Storm cried out in pain but recovered quickly enough, grabbing her attacker by the wrist and yanking her to the ground, where she tripped and stumbled, hindering her ability to zip out of harms way. Storm was more than ready to fry her once more, electricity already crackling at the palms of her hands, when Callisto hastily lashed out with one foot in a hooking motion, catching Storm by surprise and causing her to lose balance.

The weather witch fell face-first onto the dusty floor, her lightning bolt harmlessly bouncing off one of the walls and dissipating, her body hitting the ground unceremoniously.

Callisto had already picked herself up and was looking down at the fallen Storm. She reached out one hand to grab her around the throat, her expression much like one of a maliciously unstable murderer.

"Why am I doing this?" Callisto said at last, replying Storm's question in a loud voice, her hold around her captive's neck tightening ruthlessly, causing Storm to wince in pain and gasp for air. "I'm doing this because I _can_!"

"Blacken-" Storm coughed hoarsely, trying in vain to speak, "Blacken – wants to – kill off the mutant – race…! He said so! Whatever he's thinking of… He – He'll kill you too!"

"You don't know the whole story!" Callisto snapped, suddenly angry, but Storm was sure that the girl's grip around her neck slackened a fraction at her outburst. "I trust him and his plans for the domination of mutantkind!"

_What?!_ Storm squirmed. She did not much understand what the hell that meant, but it seemed to her that what Blacken wanted was a paradox and a mockery of what Erik Lensherr once wanted.

Callisto dragged the weakened Storm to her feet, fingers still inches from crushing her windpipe, fingernails digging painfully into her flesh. She could feel blood dripping down the side of her neck, which could have been sweat for all she knew, but Storm didn't quite have the time to care.

"Now, it's my turn to inflict some _real_ pain," the superhuman speed-gifted mutant spat, backing Storm towards one of the walls.

_Not if I can help it, _Storm grated in her mind, bringing a knee up and slamming it against Callisto's stomach as hard as she could. Callisto's hold on her neck disappeared almost instantly as the girl doubled over in a cry of pain, an expression of fury and hate taking over her face.

Storm took this momentary interval to run past the girl and back to Mystique's side, wiping off what was indeed blood from her neck with a shaky hand.

_I could really use some help right about now, _Storm wanted to say to the shape-shifter, but did not want to seem disrespectful. The woman was still in shock and mourning the death of her ex-leader. She could understand and sympathise. In fact, she was quite surprised at how well Mystique was holding it all in and hadn't already started to sob. Storm knew that she herself had broken down crying when Xavier had been killed by Jean Grey.

But whatever the case, she desperately hoped that Mystique would snap out of it soon and come to her much-needed aid.

"You're going to suffer for that," Callisto growled, panting heavily as she recovered from the harsh blow to her abdomen and started to move menacingly towards her archrival once more.

"Where – where's Pietro?" Storm asked quickly, hoping to prolong the pause in the fight to get _a little_ information out of the 'bad guy' and at the same time, trying hard not to think that the boy had sold his soul to the devil and indirectly caused his own father's death. _Pietro couldn't have,_ she told herself, wanting so much to believe it. _He was one of our students for crying out loud!_ Storm was having an internal dispute with herself and just didn't seem to recall that there was a time when another one of her students had turned traitorous in the past as well.

"Pietro?" Callisto echoed, stopping in mid-stride, as though confused for a few seconds. "Oh. You mean _his_ son?" her eyes darted to the only lifeless person in the room. "He's got some crazy reflexes, that kid. In fact, he could probably best me in a race," she frowned, "not that I'll ever tell him that."

"Where. Is. He?" Storm said, this time slower and more forcefully.

"How the hell would I know? Although I _do_ have to kill him later," Callisto added smilingly. "It's funny how his poor daddy's dead. But he'd probably be happy that he is now. Hah!"

A split second later, Callisto found herself being flung clear across the room and into a wall.

She looked up, stars swimming around her head, to see that Mystique had at long last gotten up.

And she was agonizingly livid.

_Must've been something I said_, Callisto assumed, quickly rising from the ground. Her smile had vanished.

Storm looked relieved. It was finally two against one. And if it was hand-to-hand combat Callisto wanted, she stood no chance against Mystique, that much Storm was sure.

"DON'T – YOU – _EVER_ – TALK – ABOUT – HIM – THAT - WAY!" Mystique roared, voice shaking with anger, eyes brimming with hatred.

"I talk about whoever I want, _however_ I want," Callisto bit back sourly, rubbing a sore arm, still unable to believe that she had completely missed catching sight of Mystique's advancement earlier.

Mystique just about had enough of this obnoxious twit. She flew straight at the speedster, arms outstretched and ready to rearrange the girl's face.

Callisto sidestepped Mystique, came around from behind her, and aimed to hit the woman from the rear. The shape-shifter was not stupid; she had been expecting such a move from the start. Bringing her arm back, she elbowed the girl in the ribs and consecutively smacked her directly in the face with a balled fist. Then proceeded to twirl around on the spot and kick her assailant in the side quite gracefully, but with so much force that it sent Callisto crashing to the ground, narrowly missing the metal spear that used to be part of the room's window frame.

"You deserve a fate worse than death," Mystique hissed viciously, striding up to where Callisto's crumpled form lay and wrenching her up painfully by her hair.

Callisto looked up into the reptilian eyes of Mystique and for the first time that day, felt true fear.

Desperately, she pushed back at her captor and managed to break loose of her hold. Mystique stumbled back a bit. But that was all the time Callisto needed to back away towards the door. Deciding that a fight against Mystique wasn't of her best interest right now, Callisto thought it would be better if she went after Pietro instead.

"You haven't seen the last of me!" she yelled, racing out the door in a flash and leaving the two other women alone in the room.

_And we'll be waiting,_ Storm thought of shouting back, but knew that it would only prove useless. She wished that Callisto would meet a sticky end one day. She really, really did.

Meanwhile, Mystique had already gone back to Magneto's side, now breaking down entirely and crying freely. She put her arms around the dead man, as though not ready to let him go, and she let her head rest against his unmoving chest, her sobbing unceasing.

As the weather manipulator looked on pityingly, she thought silently to herself that she would never have guessed that her heart would break over the sight of Raven Darkholme weeping over the lifeless body of Erik Lensherr.

Haltingly, she walked up to Mystique, half-cautious and tense, in case the woman decided to attack her as well in a fit of unsuppressed, unpredictable resentment. She knelt down next to the shape-shifter carefully, and put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, if not awkwardly.

Mystique didn't even seem to notice.

_She loved him,_ the weather manipulator realised. _Even though she hated him on the outside, she never stopped loving him on the inside._

"Raven…" Storm murmured quietly, after what seemed like several minutes later, trying to hide the growing concern in her voice. She didn't want to bring it up, but she had to. "We – we have to go. The others… we have to find them and warn them…"

There was still no reaction.

"They could be in danger… Logan and Pyro and them…"

Mystique twitched when she heard Pyro's name. She looked up blearily, seeming to finally comprehend Storm's words.

_They could be in danger… Logan and Pyro and them…_

She had already lost one. She sure as hell did not want to lose the other…

The blue-skinned mutant tried to clear her head, blinking back tears.

However, seconds later, a huge rumble coursed through the building from underground, which caused both women to lurch forward and the furniture in the room to crash to the floor in a clamour.

_Earthquake? Here!? NOW!?_

"We've got to go!" Storm yelled this time, standing quickly and hoping against hope that the earthquake was natural and not, in fact, set off by a certain evil mutant.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth when a second jolt sent Storm to her knees once more and caused a deafening creak to resonate around the whole building. Cracks appeared on the ceiling and spidered down along the walls, sprinkling them in a fine powder of dust.

_Damn!_

Things didn't seem to be going well at all. One of them was dead, people who were meant to _be_ dead were coming back to life, they had no idea if the others were fine and whether they've found Rogue, and to top it all off, the whole building was about to come down on top of them.

_Perfect,_ Storm thought sardonically.

---

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here," Ezekiel Blacken said in a soft, patronizing voice that sounded as though it belonged to the devil himself. He surveyed the group before him from where he stood rather hungrily, like how a cat would look at a trapped mouse. "I was right in guessing that the rest of you would be down here. Ah, and you've found her. Very good," he commented, looking over at Rogue, his smile widening even more. "I haven't forgotten what you did to my face, girl," he said to her.

Marie D'Ancanto looked to where she had inflicted those long, bloody fingernail cuts on either side of the man's cheeks and couldn't help but feel a slight, grim satisfaction. _You damn well deserved it, _she wanted to scream at him as loudly as possible. But she didn't, because the man was dangerous. She knew, with every fibre of her being agreeing unanimously, that this man was definitely the one person she feared. She feared him, loathed him, was utterly _terrified_ of him… all because she knew _what_ he was and _what_ he could do. He was, quite literally,_ her_. And Rogue had always been afraid of her own powers.

John Allerdyce was glaring fixedly at the man before them. In the back of his mind, he was silently congratulating Rogue on a job well done at her attempt to scratch his face off. But the fear expressed on the face of the girl he loved had instantly set him on edge. She had, after all, said that this man was highly dangerous, and a_ mutant_ no less. John wondered what his powers were, and he _really_ hoped to hell that it wasn't anything that involved water. But whatever the threat, John swore to himself he would always protect Rogue no matter what. Even if he had to risk everything to save what he held dear. The pyrokinetic manipulator's fingers twitched in anger and contempt as he remembered that Blacken was the very man who had kidnapped his Marie from under their nose.

Bobby Drake was frowning. He was finally here, face-to-face, with the man who murdered a whole bunch of people and claimed that he would extinguish the mutant race. He did not want to know how such an evil, twisted man could actually exist in this world. Of course, what he hadn't realised yet – what he hadn't heard Rogue say to John - was that Blacken was in fact a mutant himself, and that made it all the more twisted.

Kitty Pryde never knew that a person could ever look so insane and evil. This was the man who had caused much distress throughout the mansion. This was the man who killed Warren's father at Worthington Labs! And Angel… The poor, poor Angel… Kitty felt herself shake with apprehension. Surely he was only human! Surely the five of them could take him down easily… Right? Her reassured beliefs were about to be turned upside down.

Logan bristled. He could practically smell the fear from Rogue, the anger from Pyro, the hesitance from the Iceman and the nervousness from Shadowcat. It was all he could do to keep himself from lunging at Blacken and ripping him to shreds.

"You all seem a little quiet," Blacken said then, "What's with you people? Too afraid to say anything to little old me?" His voice held a mocking lilt. A mocking lilt that hit a nerve.

_That's IT!_ Logan roared like a caged animal and flew at Blacken, his adamantium claws extending with a metallic 'snikt'. The sooner he decapitated the maniac the better, he told himself.

Blacken, anticipating Logan's attack beforehand, stopped him in midair with one sweep of his arm. Logan's eyes widened considerably before Blacken sent him soaring overhead and into one of the walls rather painfully. John was pretty sure he heard a loud _crack_ resound throughout the large, underground chamber. The Wolverine was still being held several feet up against the wall, as though pinned down by an invisible force.

Logan grunted, his face contorted in a mixture of expressions ranging from spite to agony. And he had finally made sense of the whole thing.

"Look out," he growled from where he was, "He's a metal manipulator! Just like Magneto!" he said, although not entirely sure if he was right. It was the only way he could possibly get his head around the overwhelming powers that Blacken was displaying at the moment, though.

"Metal manipulator?" Blacken echoed in amusement. "Oh, no, no. My powers way surpass that of magnetokinesis, my friend," he grinned. "But I'm so glad you like my new ability."

Rogue suddenly felt sick to her stomach, knowing exactly how he got those powers in the first place. _No, he could not have…_

"You…" her voice faltered and died halfway and she swallowed, trying again. "You killed him," she whispered. It was not a question, and as much as she hoped that Blacken would just laugh and say no, he did not kill him but just stole some of his powers, Rogue was not that stupid. The man was ruthless and there was no way he'd let someone live if he could help it. And so, hers was not a question, but a statement of truth that she didn't want to believe.

Blacken's eyes left Logan – although he still held the man in place – and they landed on Rogue. _Ah, she's finally caught on. _"Yes, child, I killed him. The mighty Erik Lensherr -" he announced, louder this time, "- leader of the mighty Brotherhood of Mutants is _dead_. And now, I have his powers to prove it!"

There was a moment of heavy silence.

John felt himself go cold, the _whens_, the _whys_ and the _hows_ racing through his mind. "You're lying," he said in a flat, emotionless voice. But the look on his face betrayed his words. There was no point in Blacken lying, was there?

"Not lying," Blacken said smugly, demonstrating once more the powers he had stolen by letting Logan slide off the wall and on to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Rogue wanted to throw up. She could not believe it. This had to be a fucking nightmare! Ezekiel Blacken had killed the man who had once tried to kill her. And although she had every right to hate Erik Lensherr, this was going _too far_. For him to be dead… was just… absurd!

And the look on John's face at that very moment was breaking her heart. It looked as though he was not taking this revelation very well. What seemed to be a hundred different emotions were coursing through him at the same time, and the most noticeable emotion seemed to be anger.

"So," Logan was saying as calmly as he could through clenched teeth, "you killed him." He had picked himself off the ground, seemingly as good as new once more. What ever bone he had snapped due to coming into contact with the wall had now obviously been healed.

"Of course."

"Why? Why murder _us_? Why murder the mutant population when you yourself are a mutant?"

"Because I can," Blacken replied simply. "… Well, if you really want to know, I have planned my domination for a long time. You see, I have a dream."

Logan tried very hard not to snort, despite the situation.

"I want to be the only mutant left on the planet -" Blacken continued.

_Fat chance,_ Logan wanted to say.

"- and to reign over the humans—make them fear me. I want the mutants eradicated so that _I_ can be the one to own _their_ powers!" he crowed.

"You are insane," Logan muttered, not understanding what the man was implying, not understanding that the man was telling him exactly what his mutant powers really were.

"Oh, really? Wouldn't you like to own every power in the universe and be the only one of your kind left to savour the taste of victory? Wouldn't you?"

"So that was your plan all along? What the hell happened to your homo sapien followers, then?" Logan asked, although deep down, he already knew the answer.

"I no longer needed them," Blacken replied nonchalantly. "They're dead, of course."

Kitty choked back a gasp.

"And what of the Cure? Why steal it?" Logan pressed.

"Ah. Yes, the Cure. Curious vaccine, isn't it? Well, you already no doubt heard that the Cure's effects will fade with time. But do you know what exactly happens when you regain your powers after the suppressant recedes from your mutant bodies?" the man asked, eyes glittering. When his question was met with uncomfortable silence, he went on, "Your powers heighten. They get much more powerful than what they were before; almost _doubling_, if not tripling. That's why I wanted the Cure so badly."

Rogue, strangely enough, didn't seem to find all this too surprising. She had known for quite some time now that her powers were acting up bizarrely. Now she finally had her doubts confirmed that it was indeed the Cure that was causing it to become increasingly powerful and also, increasingly unstable.

"So you were lying, then. You didn't want to Cure to make it permanent. That was just a ruse to get yourself on national television!"

"Clever."

Logan was not amused. "Why and how the hell did you kidnap Rogue and Pietro in the first place?" he growled.

"I assure you, I did not kidnap Pietro. Sure, I got the girl. But the boy was, at that time, on my side. How do you think I managed to kidnap the girl? I couldn't have just waltzed into your little school and grabbed her now, could I?"

Rogue started. So Pietro _did_ do the kidnapping after all. That definitely explained why she hadn't heard nor seen anyone in the kitchen until it was too late.

"So Pietro was working for you all along!" Bobby exclaimed. It was probably the first time he'd said anything to the man.

"Well, not exactly. He was just too blind-sighted by his hatred for his father that he was willing to do whatever it took to get his revenge on him. So much so that he took my offer. We made a deal. He was to help me get you people _here_ while I was to promise him a chance to get even with his dad. But the thing is, _I _was the one who killed his father, meaning his end of the deal does not exist anymore."

"Go to hell!" Rogue snarled sharply. She was suddenly furious.

Blacken's smile disappeared momentarily and he spread his arms out wide, as though imploring to Rogue. "Come now, you and I should be on friendlier terms! After all, you and I aren't so very different, are we? Both mutants, both gifted with immense power," he smirked, "…both cursed with the same life-stealing abilities."

There were several sharp intakes of breaths. Rogue felt like she had been slapped.

"There, I said it," Blacken mused. "Your mutant codename, so I've learned, is Rogue, is it not? Well, guess what mine is? _Blackguard_. A full synonym of the word 'rogue'. Ezekiel 'Blackguard' Blacken," He murmured. "You and I can kill people with out bare hands. See? Shouldn't we be best of friends? _Allies_?"

"ENOUGH!" John roared. "Shut the hell up and get the fuck out of the way or I'll kill you myself!"

"You'll what now?"

"You heard me!"

Blacken snorted. "Clear as crystal, my boy. It was just so amusing to hear you say it the first time, I wanted to hear it again."

Before John knew what he was doing, he had lit his wrist igniter and sent a pillar of flame straight at the man. Blacken barely got out of the way in time, launching himself off the last step on the staircase which he was standing on and soaring over theirs heads with his stolen powers of levitation and coming to land a few feet behind John, Kitty, Bobby and Rogue. All of them whipped around to face him. He was now standing with his back to the end of the basement where the flammable gas canisters stood not far away. Their exit was free.

"Huh. Magnetokinesis seems to be more useful than I initially thought," Blacken mused out loud. But he didn't look so happy anymore after John's abrupt attack.

"Why Rogue? Why did you get that bastard to kidnap her? Not anyone else?" John yelled, the image of a terrified Marie engraved into his memory forever. Magneto was dead, and all this time, Marie could've died too. "Why wasn't it _me_? OR SOMEONE ELSE?"

"It wasn't me who chose the hostage, you fool!" Blacken snapped. "It was the boy. I suppose he thought she was an easy target and decided that she was the perfect one to bring to me. Good thing he did, too! If not, I would never have known she existed and of the kind of power she possesses." And then, Blacken frowned, remembering something. "She tried to drain me, that bitch," his eyes snapped back to Rogue, "Well, she got a nasty surprise as soon as she found out she couldn't kill me." He chuckled. "We can touch each other without killing the both of us. I believe it's a cancellation effect of a sort. Pity. She's a fiery one, that one. I would've had my way with her had I the time. Bet none of you guys would probably ever get a chance."

Bobby and John had murder in their eyes and had every intention to let their powers of the elements destroy the man before them.

But Logan got to him first in another enraged attempt to stab the guy through. This time, Blacken's patience had reached its limits. He raised a hand and a huge chunk of the steel pipe from the ceiling above broke off. He sent the mass of steel hurtling towards the Wolverine from his left. Logan was almost a foot away from Blacken when he was knocked to the side of the chamber like a golf ball with a horrible 'crunch'.

"No!" Rogue screamed as all eyes followed the flying body, which landed a few feet away.

A huge gash, now leaking a large amount of blood and soaking the Wolverine's shirt, had resulted from this blow and Rogue was horrified. Logan was knocked out cold and she did not know if he would be getting up anytime soon, if ever. She wanted so much to run forward to see if he was okay, but was too afraid to get close to Blacken.

"You are one sick son of a bitch," John snarled as he and Bobby took a step towards Blacken, both poised to attack.

Kitty strode forward as well, standing her ground and glaring at the man. "Y'know," she said defiantly, "we aren't going down without a fight!"

The man was not listening. In fact, he was creating a number of marble-sized balls of _something_ in his hands.

"Remember what they said about that girl, Whatshername Smith?" he was saying as he gathered the balls of _somethings_ in his hand. "Remember when they said they didn't know what killed her? Was it poison? Some viral infection that weakened the life system? Hah! They were clueless! And they thought it was a bomb that killed Worthington! They were nearly right, that time."

He sent them flying towards Kitty. They looked like glowing balls of…

"MOVE!" John shouted at Kitty and shoved her to one side just in time before the handful of _somethings_ touched her. They exploded on the ground where she had been standing moments before.

"DON'T GET IN THE WAY!" John threw over his shoulder at Kitty as Bobby dragged her away and put her next to Rogue. He sent another pillar of fire at Blacken, who had somehow managed to deflect it with some unknown power that once belonged to someone else.

"You two stay back," Bobby said quickly to the girls.

"But I can phase through - !"

"Let _us_ handle this," Bobby cut through Kitty's dispute hastily. "See if you can grab Logan and get out of here," he gestured to the open exit just behind them. "No buts!" he added quickly, seeing the indignant looks on both their faces. "Just go!" And then he quickly turned to join John once more in the fray.

Blast after blast of ice and fire shot towards Blacken and in one instance, Bobby managed to successfully strike the man in the arm with a blast of ice that was initially meant to hit his head. Blacken's arm literally froze. It was encased in a block of solid ice.

"Nice shot, Drake," John commented.

"Thanks."

But Blacken fixed his predicament quite quickly when his whole arm burst into flame and melted the ice quiet neatly. That just about wiped Bobby's satisfied look off his face and replaced it with disbelief.

"What the h -" John had no time to gape because Blacken lifted an arm, which was now not on fire anymore, and the ground beneath them shook violently, as though an earthquake were happening that very moment.

The two boys cursed as they fell to the floor on hands and knees. Rogue and Kitty, who were dragging Logan towards the stairwell, were huddled together on the ground.

"Just give up, you're all going to die anyway!"

"If we're going to die at your hands, we sure as hell won't make it _easy_ for you!" Bobby yelled back.

There was another jerk in the ground and this time, the ceiling sounded like it was about to cave in. The ground from under them split and rocks spewed forth from below. A huge wall of stone about a meter thick started to rise all of a sudden, and it separated Bobby and John from Blacken. It acted almost like a shield for the man.

The two boys looked at each other, unstably getting to their feet.

"Well," said Bobby with a grim smile. "Shall we?"

John didn't need to read his friend's mind to tell what he was planning. "We shall."

And the Iceman froze the stone wall in a mass layer of ice. The whole chamber seemed to drop in temperature in seconds. Even John felt the subzero iciness emanate from the continuous blast. When Bobby was satisfied that he had covered the whole rock wall in ice, he stopped.

"Go for it, 'Dyce."

John sparked his igniter and sent what was probably the biggest ball of fire he'd ever conjured up at the wall.

The wall cracked and exploded almost immediately at the sudden extreme change in temperature.

Bobby and John covered their faces with their arms as chunks of rock and pebble flew in all directions.

The wall was no longer there.

"Good to see you were at least paying _some_ attention back when we had classes."

"Shut it, Drake. I aced Physics, thank you very much." John managed a small smirk before a metallic projectile whizzed passed him, narrowly missing his head. The smirk promptly disappeared.

Blacken was getting _very_ impatient. X-Men shouldn't be _this_ hard to take down, should it? He made an elaborate gesture and somehow generated magma in his hands that looked much like a huge rock on fire. He sent the magma blast straight at Bobby, who immediately countered the attack by freezing the thing in midair. It crashed to the ground harmlessly and shattered into a million pieces of ice and stone.

Blacken hurled a psionic ball of explosive energy in Bobby's direction once more, this time, it was no longer the size of a marble. Bobby was caught off-guard and the explosion sent him flying backwards. His head hit the banister of the staircase painfully and he crashed to the floor just a foot from Kitty, who screamed his name.

John just about had it with this. Stepping over rubble and shards of metal, he glanced at his fallen friend quickly to make sure he wasn't too badly injured before turning back to glare at Blacken. _Enough of this shit,_ he thought to himself and ruthlessly hurled a mass of flame at the man, hoping to catch him by surprise.

It wasn't the case.

"You never learn, do you?" Blacken smirked as he raised himself off the ground just in time to avoid John's attack. Then, he snapped his fingers.

John's igniter suddenly exploded. Blacken had done something to the metallic pieces in the contraption.

"Crap," John muttered as he let the now-useless wrist igniter drop to the ground, his eyes following Blacken intently as he watched the man land gracefully once more. Then, he glanced back to make sure the others were fine. Bobby was just getting back on his feet, being supported by a terrified Kitty. Red liquid was trickling down his forehead and he looked positively unstable and lightheaded. Logan was still unconscious, his bloodied shirt looked much too bloody. Rogue… He caught her eye and she seemed to be pleading with him to _please not get hurt_. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue… Marie…

John faltered for a moment, then slowly looked towards Bobby, his eyes overly bright.

It was pointless to run now, even though the exit was just feet away. Blacken would just be after them in a heartbeat. And he was way more dangerous than any of them anticipated. He could kill them so very easily. Right now, he was just toying with them!

John Allerdyce realised bleakly that it was now, or never.

Blacken raised his arms once more…

_This could be the only fucking way._

… John's hand went swiftly to his pocket…

_It'll only be me and that will be fine._

… A bunch of razor-sharp pieces of metal rose from the ground…

_Drake will know what to do._

… He took the zippo lighter out…

_I'll send this bastard straight to hell._

… The metal pieces shot straight at John towards his chest…

_Crap._

… John ducked, and most of them missed him completely. But one of them sliced through his shoulder, and another across his mouth…

_Dammit!_

… Blacken crowed with laughter, Rogue cried out as though she were in pain, and John dropped to his knees, panting. It was now…

_Marie… This is the only way… I'm sorry._

… or never…

The zippo clinked open. And John lit it quickly, his mind already made up.

"You must be _really_ stupid," Blacken muttered. And the zippo flew out of John's hand to hover just out of reach, in between the two of them.

"Out of firepower," the blackguard observed. "I'm sorry, my boy. You lose."

"No. _I'm_ sorry," Pyro grinned maliciously, wiping the blood off his lower lip shakily, "_**YOU **_LOSE!"

The lighter, still levitating in midair, still lit with its glowing, small flame, flared up like a massive, dazzlingly bright serpent, coiled and ready to spring forward. It unfurled itself magnificently and briefly looked like a large, blazing dragon - his very last momento that the others would remember him by - before shooting straight towards Ezekiel Blacken. Only, it didn't quite hit him at all. Instead, it engulfed the flammable, explosive gas tanks behind him.

… _Forgive me…_

'_**BANG!'**_

The place exploded. Literally. Bobby Drake just barely had enough time to encase Rogue, Kitty, Logan and himself in a dome of ice before the blaze swallowed them whole.

"JOHN!" Rogue screamed as the explosion rocked the place perilously. "PYRO! JOHN!" She screamed his name over and over and over again, but her cries were drowned out by the roaring of flames and deafening crashes of the ceiling coming down in enormous chunks on top of the section where John and Blacken were just moments before.

_Don'tbedeadDon'tbedeadDon'tbedeadDon'tbedeadDon'tbedeadDon'tbedeadDon'tbedead… PLEASE. Oh god…_

Fire and large pieces of debris ate at the ice barrier that shielded them, and nothing could be seen through the blue, hazy wall but a bright glare of orange light. She lunged forward, clawing desperately at the barrier of ice, hoping to get through it somehow and _GET. JOHN. OUT. OF. THERE._

"Rogue!" Bobby said loudly, trying very hard to keep the wavering in his voice to a minimum. "Don't…" he came from behind her and held on to her struggling form tightly, tearing her away from the wall. "Don't get too close!"

Rogue screamed again, this time crying uncontrollably. "Don't, Bobby! Bobby, save him!" she shrieked, pleadingly. "DO SOMETHING!"

"There's nothing I can do!" he shouted over her sobbing and the clamour of steel on concrete. "There really isn't!" he said, as though it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.

Rogue refused to believe the crap he was saying.

"Can't you PHASE through?!" she implored to Kitty suddenly, all logic and common sense leaving her. She was much too distraught to think straight. To think _anything_.

Kitty was silent, her heart shattering. She knew that she couldn't do what her friend wanted. She would already have done it if it were possible. She tried hard not to think about the fate that Pyro had orchestrated for himself.

"Please, Rogue…" Bobby begged. "It's too dangerous, you _know_ that. We've… we've lost enough," he murmured.

Rogue wailed despairingly, breaking down completely and dropping to her knees. _Why, why, why,__** why, WHY?!**_

"The whole damn building's coming down! We'll be trapped here if we don't MOVE!" Bobby was getting frantic now. "Rogue! Come on!" he yelled, grabbing a dazed Logan, who was now barely regaining consciousness, by the arm and hoisting the man up to his feet. "Let's get out!"

With a last, choking sob, Rogue reluctantly turned her back on the raging fire just beyond the ice wall and fled, with Kitty Pryde reaching out with a gloved hand and grabbing Rogue's own hand in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, tugging her along.

They escaped through the stairwell and ran through the lobby towards the exit, still shell-shocked at what happened just moments before. The fire that John instigated had burnt through the ceiling and was already eating its way through the first floor. The building rumbled dangerously, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Up ahead, Bobby could see Storm and Mystique. They were carrying a body. Bobby knew it was Magneto's. Despite the strange pang of sadness, he gave a relieved shout and sprinted towards them as fast as the added weight of Logan would allow him. Kitty and Rogue followed right behind.

The group of them ran wordlessly out of the burning building and managed to get out just in time to watch it crumble to the ground.

They watched it. They just stood there, as though time stood still and the only thing that was in motion was the asylum in front of them giving way and caving in on itself. There was nothing to say to each other.

Nothing at all.

It dawned on both Storm and Mystique immediately what must have happened to John.

And Mystique… she was mortified. She had lost _everyone._

Logan and Storm… had lost a fellow team member.

Bobby and Kitty… had lost a friend…

And Rogue…

Rogue…

A terrible wave of anguish swept over Marie D'Ancanto and she started to cry once more.

…

And she didn't know when she stopped crying, even after the lonesome flight home.

---

_-A/N-: Oh, gosh... I think I'll cry writing the next chapter... It will be the final one, followed by an epilogue.  
_

_Leave a review?  
_


	29. XXIX: Quietude

_-A/N-: Of broken memories, funerals, and tears._

---

_They found themselves under the shadow of a large tree in a secluded corner of the furthest reaches of the outer precinct of the large estate._

"_You've got to remind me once more, 'Dyce. Just what in the world are we doing here again?" a disgruntled and highly sceptical Bobby Drake asked, looking to his friend with a trademark frown on his face. Not for the first time, he asked himself mentally why he had picked this brash, arrogant, conceited mutant to be his best friend again, and wasn't surprised when he came up with no answer._

_John Allerdyce rolled his eyes and looked over at Rogue imploringly with an expression that clearly read 'why is he always such an idiot?' But seeing that she also seemed to be giving him a rather puzzled look, he decided that maybe telling them a third time in the span of twenty minutes wouldn't hurt._

_The pyrokinetic manipulator had dragged both Bobby and his girlfriend over to a relatively quiet and shady spot somewhere outdoors. Despite still being on school grounds, the pyromaniac still insisted on acting like he owned the place. Sitting himself down promptly on the grassy earth, an expression of content smugness gracing his face, he looked back up at his companions._

"_Well, I figured we could use a break from all that studying." He made a face. "Especially you, Ice. How the hell do you live through three hours cooped up in the library and doing all that crazy research? Wouldn't that kill you? I know it'd kill me," John said, almost accusingly._

_Rogue looked from John to Bobby, realising how true John's words were. She never understood Bobby's obsession with school and being perfect every minute of the day. But maybe that was exactly why she had chosen him to be her boyfriend._

"_He's right, you know? You _do_ work too hard," she said finally with a smile as she followed suit and plopped down beside John, who scooted over a little to give her room to lean against the tree._

"_Yeah, Drake. Even your girl agrees. Learn to live a little! Just 'cause I beat you in that last topical essay doesn't mean you gotta' spend your life buried in books before trying to outdo me the next time 'round." John grinned, taking out his most prized possession from his jacket pocket – the shark zippo that everyone knew John had gotten for himself weeks ago so as to replace his previous lighter that Bobby broke. "It's just not possible, Drake."_

"_You wrote about _The Joys of Setting Objects Ablaze_," Bobby stated bluntly, mildly annoyed. He was _still_ not able to believe that the pyromaniac got an 'A' for the essay whilst he only received a miserable 'B-Plus' for doing an arguably better piece on _Why Global Warming is Killing Us.

"_Hey, at least I had the damn passion to write it," John defended. "It's probably what got me that 'A'."_

"_You probably bribed the teacher," Bobby muttered, finally settling himself down next to his girlfriend, "Or maybe even threatened to _demonstrate_ your essay by setting her alight. Joyfully."_

_Rogue burst out laughing. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did that," she said, trying hard to suppress her giggle. "Johnny's the type, isn't he?"_

_John toyed with his zippo thoughtfully, a smile finding his way to his lips. Her laugh was contagious. "Hmm. Got me all figured out, eh Rogue?" he murmured, his eyes not leaving the lighter in his nimble fingers._

"_I have my ways," she replied coolly._

"_What did you write about anyway, Rogue?" Bobby asked, curiously. "You never told me."_

_Clink. Snap. Clink._

"_Uh…" Rogue said, distracted. "Um, _Social Etiquette_. Got an 'A' for it, too."_

_Snap._

"_Sweet! That makes you the stupid one, Drake!" John sang._

"_At least _I'm_ not failing Mathematics. Unlike you," Bobby shot back._

"_Good for you, Drake. You have my well-wishes and utmost support," John replied nonchalantly. He never had the patience for memorising formulas and numbers anyways. Which was odd, as he was technically the top of his Physics class._

"_Don't be mean to him. What ever happened to your sincerity?" Rogue asked John. There was mirth in her voice._

_Clink._

"_Is that a trick question?" John asked. "Kinda' rhetorical ain't it?"_

_Bobby resisted the urge to slap his forehead in exasperation._

"_Oh, Johnny," Rogue shook her head, as though giving up on a particularly immature child._

"_Normally, I'd have a rule against people calling me 'Johnny'. But since it's you, I'll make an exception."_

"_I'm honoured."_

"_As you should be."_

"_Hey, did you hear how Sam Guthrie got into that fight with one of the new kids?" Bobby asked, breaking the banter between the two._

"_Yeah. Well, Sammy had it coming though. Never did like that cannonball."_

"_Is it just me or are there seemingly more fights happening in school lately?" Rogue asked, voicing her concern. _

"_It's jerks like him," Bobby pointed to John almost dramatically, "who would start a fight. No questions asked, y'know? Just – BAM! He'll snap and all hell breaks loose."_

"_If it's a verbal fight, then I'm there. I'd rather use words - or my lighter - to get my point across. Throwing punches would just be a big waste of my time."_

"_So typically Pyro," Rogue grinned._

"_Why, thank you, Marie."_

"_Rogue," she corrected immediately. _

_No matter what, Rogue still felt rather uncomfortable when people called her by her actual name – even if the name were used by her friends. She only reserved that name for people she really trusted. Bobby had picked up on it fairly quickly and thus, hardly ever used her real name. But John Allerdyce seemed to need constant reminders every now and then. In fact, it was plainly obvious that he was doing it on purpose._

"_Hey, I know!" Bobby quipped suddenly. "Here, stand up, Rogue," he said, doing just that and awaiting his girlfriend to mimic him._

"_Um, sure." Rogue glanced questioningly at John before looking back to her boyfriend and getting to her feet slowly._

"_Just what -" John inquired, raising an eyebrow, his opening and closing of the lighter ceasing instantly, "- are you planning, Drake?"_

"_Just something I learnt from a TV program the other day," the ice-making mutant replied. "It's a self-defence move. Here, I'll teach you, Rogue… Uh…" He paused. "You don't mind, do you?"_

_Rogue shook her head, a demure smile shadowing her features. She trusted Bobby. With her life._

"_Cool." Bobby circled Rogue, thinking about how to best instruct her on how the trick worked._

"_Minimum contact, remember," Rogue warned lightly._

_John rolled his eyes. "Here we go again. The physical touching in public. And right in front of _me_, no less."_

_Rogue and Bobby both gave John a look, although the pyrokinetic manipulator couldn't tell if they were looks of sheepishness or looks of disapproval. It was highly likely that it was a little of both. Rolling his eyes again, he went back to playing with his lighter._

"_Well," Bobby said, turning his attention back to Rogue. "Uh… So, you grab him by the arms like this," he said, demonstrating as he took hold of Rogue's own two arms, careful not to touch her skin but the long sleeves of her coat instead. "And then you thrust your hip against his lower torso and pitch him forward and up, over your back."_

_Without warning, John snorted with laughter, almost choking with mirth. He couldn't help it, really._

_Bobby let go of Rogue and looked around at John, annoyed. "What's so funny?"_

_John, after having calmed himself down, replied, "Did you have to make it sound so… explicit?"_

_Bobby turned slightly pink, realising how he must have sounded. "Jerk," he muttered darkly, scowling at the smirking teen before him._

"_Anyway, it's not like she's gonna' need self-defence lessons, what with what she can do with her skin," John said, ignoring Bobby completely._

_There was a momentous silence._

"_I dunno," Rogue said quietly. "Maybe one day, I might lose them. I might turn normal again, although the chances seem impossible." She shrugged. "Or there might be a way to get rid of my powers in the future. Chances of that happening is kinda' slim too…"_

"_Don't you _ever_ take that chance, Marie," John said seriously, looking straight at her now. "You just don't throw away the life you were meant to live. That's just wasting it away."_

"_Mmm…" Rogue was deep in thought for a few moments. "Maybe."_

_Another awkward silence._

_Clink. _

"_Hey, since we're outside, let's make some improvised snow," John then suggested hastily, looking to Bobby, realising that he should change the subject for the sake of Rogue, who suddenly looked like she was thinking way too much about her mutation again. He hated it when she did. It always made her look like she was being tortured on the inside._

"_Okay, I'll do the freezing, you do the melting."_

"_Deal!" John jumped to his feet._

_In the span of two minutes, they had created a mountain of snow. Well, more like a large pile of icy slush to be precise, but close enough._

"_SNOWBALL FIGHT!" John hollered, scooping a handful of the cold slush and throwing it at Rogue. Although he aimed for her head, it hit her in the shoulder._

"_John!" Rogue exclaimed indignantly, looking scandalised at the amused boy. She hastily wiped the offending snow off her neck and shoulder. "You are SO dead."_

_She grabbed at the pile of slush and flung a snowball in John's direction, which somehow missed him completely and went soaring towards Bobby. Bobby ducked in time, reached for some snow, and pegged a handful of it at John._

_It would have hit the pyromaniac square in the face if it weren't for him turning the sludge into steam by flaring up his lighter._

"_You cheater!" Bobby growled, going for another snowball._

"_It makes the game all the more exciting, Drake!" John laughed, taking cover behind the tree as a second snowball, courtesy of Drake, narrowly missed his head. _

_What he didn't anticipate was Rogue waiting behind the tree for him. He didn't even realise she was there until after he felt a pile of slush hit him in the back of the head._

"_What the -?" _

_He was met with tinkling laughter._

"_Oh, that's IT, lady," John said with an evil glint in his eye, shaking his hair free of snow. "This is one snowball fight you are NOT going to win."_

_Rogue darted off and hid behind Bobby, using him as a shield._

_Their battle waged for another fifteen minutes before all the ice had melted and they were drenched and freezing. Not surprisingly, John had emerged the victor, owing to the fact that he resorted to cheating his way through the fight._

_They were now catching their breath, lying on the grass next to each other in a companionable silence._

"_You know, this place really isn't all that bad," Bobby conceded finally, breaking the long, still quietness. "I suppose we could come out here more often."_

"_Glad you warmed up to the idea at last, Ice."_

_Pause._

"_Thanks for bringing us here today, John. I had fun," Rogue murmured sleepily, her eyes closed._

_John smirked, looking across at Rogue and stealing a glance at the small smile on her lips._

"_See? I told you getting out of the mansion was a good idea."_

_And so it came to pass that following that day, that very tree in the garden would be known to everyone who attended Xavier's School for the Gifted Young as the Genuine Hangout of the Golden Trio…_

_--- _

The day of the funeral was sombre and emotional.

It was as though a quiet, mournful veil of hushed grief had befallen the group that sat in the memorial courtyard before the headstone monuments, which now came to a total of five—Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Erik Lensherr, Pietro Maximoff and John Allerdyce.

The entire procession felt surreal and quite reminiscent to the service that was held all those weeks ago following Charles Xavier's supposed death. Only this time, the Professor himself was one of the three people who stood to deliver eulogies to the departed.

The other two were Raven Darkholme and Bobby Drake.

A small sea of people, dressed in dark solemn colours, were present, although Bobby wasn't at all surprised that the crowd was noticeably smaller than the one at Xavier's funeral. After all, most of the people that lived in the mansion still saw Erik as an outlaw and John as a traitor. But, as much as Bobby hated it that majority didn't bother to attend the service, he also felt thankful that only a handful of them were there.

Not many knew John on a personal level, and even less knew Erik. John Allerdyce was literally picked up off the streets after his exile from home and so, the Professor was not able to inform his family of his death. But Bobby somehow knew that they wouldn't really care. Erik's family, as far as everyone knew, was dead. Including his children. Being the fugitive he was, the only real acquaintances the man had were already there at the funeral—Xavier and Raven.

It was a cloudy midafternoon. A light, cool drizzle was falling steadily down upon them like the tears of heaven. But even before this, their spirits were already quite dampened.

"My friends," Charles Xavier's voice rang out through the silence of the yard, "we are gathered here today to commemorate and remember the brave souls that were lost two days ago during the incident at the Woodbridge Asylum."

The hush grew thicker, the drizzle intensified… and the words that escaped Xavier's mouth somehow weighed down on everyone.

"Many died at the hands of a man mislead by his own warped notion of domination," the Professor continued, "and their deaths were by no means necessary. In fact, they were _so_ unnecessary that it is hard to forgive Blacken for what he did."

There were a few nods of unified agreement from the crowd at this.

"The young mutants – Lance Alvers, Amara Aquilla, Tabitha Smith -" Jubilee choked back a sob, "- left this world too soon. For some of you, this may mean nothing. But for others," Xavier looked to the upset Jubilation Lee understandingly, knowing that she had lost a close friend from out of school, "this means a great deal. Let us hope that they rest in peace." The Professor went on. "A family member of one of our own has also suffered a similar fate." Xavier was, of course, talking about Warren's father. "May he also rest in peace."

Bobby looked towards Kitty Pryde and noticed that she herself had her head turned towards the Angel, who was sitting not to far away. She was gripping the edge of her chair so tightly that her knuckles were white. Bobby knew that Warren had returned just the day before from his father's official funeral and burial. He didn't know how the winged mutant could endure sitting through another one today.

"For now, we spend our time to honour the more recent deaths of the people who had been part of this family in one way or another. The episode that took the lives of three very remarkable mutants two days ago was most unfortunate. For Pietro Maximoff, there is no denying that the part he played in the incident was nothing short of unexpected and upsetting. However, we should not blame him for what he chose to do. He was as manipulated and outplayed by Ezekiel Blacken as every single one of us here, only driven by the early childhood he had endured."

Bobby couldn't help but feel a wave of anger wash over him. Whatever Xavier had just said, he would not be swayed. Pietro had kidnapped Rogue, lured them into a trap, nearly got all of them killed, and managed to indirectly kill both his father and John. How the hell was he supposed to forgive something like that?

"John was a schoolmate to most of you, I'm sure," Xavier continued. "I myself had the pleasure of teaching him once during his first year here. Doubtless, he probably never struck many of you as a boy of many talents, but you would be fooled by his nonchalance and lack of interest towards his studies. In actual fact, he was astoundingly bright and quickwitted. Friends of his would certainly understand what I mean."

_I do,_ Bobby answered silently in his head. It echoed over and over again. He didn't know how much more of this he could take before the tears came. Just the fact that John died in front of his eyes… he still had trouble grasping the whole concept of it. This was different, _so much more different_, to the incident at Alkali Lake and Alcatraz.

"Erik Lensherr used to be, and always had been, a friend of mine. We met many years ago and we were nigh inseparable at one stage." Xavier smiled a wavering smile of nostalgia, "You could say that the both of us took the initiative to start this very Institute for young mutants. However, when visiting the family of one of the students we were going to take in," he glanced at Jean Grey's tombstone, "it was made clear that he was genuinely power-hungry and definitely pro-mutant... But, despite our differences in the choices we made and the paths we took, he was a man whose determination to right what he thought was wrong would be admirable to many."

The Professor spent quite awhile on his old friend's eulogy. It was plainly obvious how much of a close friend he had been to the deceased Erik Lensherr. Towards the end of his speech, Bobby could have sworn he saw tears escape Xavier's eyes.

When he was finally done, Raven Darkholme took his place up at the podium to deliver her own tribute to both John and Erik.

Bobby knew that Raven was granted the offer of being part of the X-Men following their return from the asylum the other day, but he wasn't sure what her decision was. She hadn't accepted the proposal yet, as far as he knew. But no matter what, if she _did_ say yes, Bobby truthfully knew that he wouldn't mind it. She had proven herself to them all. And whatever judgements and misgivings he had of her in the past were now gone.

"Xavier approached me just before and asked me if I wanted to be up here to speak for John and Erik," Raven was saying. "So… here I am." She was speaking quite briskly, as though she might break down at any moment if she were to slow down and think painfully about everything that has happened. "I knew them. Both of them, Erik and John… it's funny now that I'm using their human names… They were Magneto and Pyro to me." She laughed a short laugh.

There was no humour in that laugh.

It was obvious she had been crying just before.

"They were like family. And their deaths… well, there's only one left in the family I suppose."

She made a gesture to herself, her dark hair falling over her face limply.

"Only Erik's body was brought back," she continued. "The person who murdered him tried to kill me with his stolen powers…" She stopped for awhile, as though not wanting to repeat the horrible scenario again. She tried a different approach by changing the subject. "When I heard how John died saving everyone else – and obviously, the rest of the mutant race – I must be honest, I felt anger. Why would he throw away his life like that? But then I realised that if he didn't, we would probably _all_ have died back there. Well, in a way, Pyro – _John_ – avenged the death of… of Erik. Erik did not die in a fair fight. There was _no_ fair fight when going up against Blacken. John probably figured it out in time and did what he could."

Bobby couldn't help but see the truth behind those words of hers. He also couldn't help but notice how much she was avoiding speaking about Erik Lensherr. Just John.

"Let them rest in peace, then. For they both died trying to save the ones they loved…" she glanced towards Pietro's headstone almost unconsciously. "… And because of this, their deaths did not go to waste."

With that, she concluded her surprisingly short eulogy and stepped down. It seemed almost as if she couldn't bear talking about the ones she had lost.

Two down, one to go.

Bobby stood and walked numbly up to the stand to deliver his tribute to John. He had realised from the start that Rogue was absent from the crowd. She had already made it clear to him an hour before that she didn't want to be there (by blatantly ignoring him when he told her that the memorial service was about to start). However, Bobby instantly scanned the faces before him meticulously as soon as he reached the front of the assembly, just in case. Maybe, just _maybe_, she had decided to turn up.

Sighing jadedly when he couldn't find her anywhere among them, he began his unrehearsed, impromptu eulogy. Deep down, he already knew exactly what he wanted to say. It all came from within.

"There is someone who currently lives back home in Boston -" he began slowly, looking into far off into the distance. "- that I used to call a brother. Well, I still do. His name was… is… Ronnie. Ronnie Drake. And… the day I left home and came here was the day I had to leave him and my family behind. However, the moment I met a boy by the name of John Allerdyce, I will say that I had gained a new brother that replaced Ronnie."

Bobby didn't know why he was telling everyone this, but he really wanted to say it. It was the first time he ever let this out in the open.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued quickly, "I still love Ronnie," _even after what he did to us on my last trip home…_ "But John and I," Bobby's voice softened, and he had to keep telling himself not cry, "we… we enrolled here in the same week and became friends in no time. Now that I look back," Bobby smiled sadly, "I wonder how _that_ happened. We couldn't have been any more opposite. He was always the class clown, the disturbance, the distraction, the _nuisance_. Always felt the need to impress people rather than listen to the teachers."

There were a few, cheerless chuckles from a couple of people who used to share classes with the pyromaniac. Bobby's eyes were already tearing up, but through his blurred vision, he could make out Ororo crying freely… and he knew why. She had been one of the said teachers who taught John. Despite that, Bobby knew that John was one of her best students… before he vanished at Alkali Lake.

"Being friends, of course, had its drawbacks. We fought. A _lot_. We would wage war on each other and it usually ended up with one of us being frozen or burnt. But I suppose that was the great thing about being friends with him… He was so impulsive and unpredictable… you could say that he had made my life considerably less dull."

Bobby paused, unsure if he could go on. He was shaking. Badly.

"His… his last words to me… oh god, I don't even _remember_ what they were…" A tear fell freely down his cheek and mingled with the rain drops on his face as the memories of him and John facing Ezekiel Blacken at the asylum came flooding back to him. He tried hard to compose himself and not think too much about the sacrifice that John made.

"I – I'm not going to say that the paths he had chosen in the past were the wrong ones to take," his voice strengthened a little and he looked blearily around, his eyes catching Mystique's. "Because to him, those paths were right."

Raven Darkholme gave Bobby a small nod of appreciation, understanding what he was implying.

"He was headstrong, knew what he wanted. Some could even argue that he was arrogant and too stuck-up for his own good. But… those were probably the qualities that made him who he was and who we all know to this day. He died with pride and dignity; he died saving us. He prevented any further deaths from occurring by sacrificing his own life for us." Bobby looked up into the sky, a sudden urge of tears spilling. "He… he died young. Was intelligent, had the looks… Johnny was more than just an acquaintance to us. He was so, so, _so_ much more. And… what he did two days ago was the most honourable thing anyone could ever do. I – I'm sure that…" his voice cracked, "… that Erik Lensherr would have been proud of him. Because I know _I_ am. I know _we_ are."

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

"So, here's to John Allerdyce – 'Pyro', as he would like to have been called. He was a schoolmate to most, a teammate to others, a friend to some," _a lover to one_, he wanted to say, "and… a hero to all of us." Bobby cleared his throat, looking back down at the gathered people, not caring anymore that he was opening crying. "May… may he rest in peace… and may we always and forever remember him…"

With that, Robert Louis Drake walked away from the podium and towards the headstone engraved with the name 'St. John Allerdyce'.

He knelt down before it carefully, forming a single-stemmed rose made of ice in his palm and setting it down on the granite monument gently.

_See ya, 'Dyce. You were the best pal I've ever had._

_--- _

He made his way through the mansion with much difficulty. The funeral had taken a toll on him and the rain had made it no better. He didn't care that he was now drenched to the bone and dripping wet. He didn't care that his eyes were still red and swollen. All he cared about was getting to _her_ room and _talking_ to _her_.

The only time he paused briefly was when he was passing by a particular room.

John's and Pietro's.

It stood unoccupied for more than forty-eight hours now, its occupants now gone.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as he could before he could dwell on it anymore and continued on his way.

He arrived at her door which was, of course, shut. He knocked once. Twice. Three times. A fourth. There was no answer.

"Rogue?"

Still no answer.

Bobby sighed. _Please open up. I'm trying to help, _he pleaded silently as he stared at the wooden blockade in front of him as though the girl within could somehow read his mind and understand how hard he was trying to ease her pain. It was true. He _had _been trying desperately to help her; to get her out of the state of denial that she had been in ever since John's death the day before. But whatever he did, Rogue would just shut down and refuse to listen to him.

This time, he was willing to try again and get through to her.

"You've been in there for more than twenty-four hours, Rogue. This isn't good for you…"

He tried to doorknob. It was unlocked. And he was deeply surprised at that.

Opening the door and stepping in with so much caution that it seemed as though he were a gliding ghost, the first thing he noticed was that Rogue was sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed. She was amidst a mess of photographs, all of them surrounding her as if she had gone through each and every one of them searchingly.

Now, she was staring glassy-eyed at one of them in her hand. An upturned cardboard box that had held those photographs stood a few feet away from the girl.

Bobby recognised the box immediately.

It was the box he had given to her for her birthday weeks ago… And he knew exactly which one of those pictures she was looking at right this very moment.

If he weren't already so upset, Bobby would have sworn that his heart would have broken by just the mere sight of Rogue staring blankly at a picture that contained the one person whom she would never, ever see again.

"Rogue…" he said into the quiet.

She didn't stir. Just kept on looking at the photo.

Bobby didn't expect an answer anyway, and slowly made his way over and sat down next to her, carefully moving any photographs in his way to the side.

"Marie?" he said quietly.

Rogue jerked, looking towards Bobby as though only just realising he was there in her room sitting beside her.

"Sorry," Bobby apologised quickly. Using her real name was the only way he could think of getting her attention. After all, John was probably the only person who used it blatantly.

She didn't say anything. Just placed the object in her hand back on the ground and stared expressionlessly into nothingness. Bobby was quite surprised that she didn't look like she had been crying. Then again, she was in denial. And she refused to believe that John had passed on.

"You know, you have to get out of your room _some_ time," he murmured, not looking at her but straight ahead, as though he could actually see what she was looking at. "You need to eat…" he glanced at her, taking in the dark circles around her eyes and her pale face. "You need to _stop_ this. Please… I - I know it's tough… but you've got to let him go. You have to accept the fact that he's… he's not coming back."

Silence.

Bobby didn't know if Rogue even heard what he said; didn't know if she was paying attention to his attempts to break her out of her denial.

And then, she spoke up. It was such a soft whisper that Bobby thought he was imagining it at first. But when he looked, her mouth was moving.

"He _is_ coming back. Just wait for him."

Bobby felt a wrenching in his stomach. As much as he wanted what she said to be true, he knew it was just not going to happen.

"Rogue… I know what he meant to you. Believe me, you're not alone. He was like a brother to me, you know? And we've _both_ lost a close friend. You just… You just need to… to _realise_ it."

Rogue frowned, still looking blankly into empty space. "Lost?" she echoed.

Bobby looked away. "… Yeah…"

Another silence. And this one went on much longer than the previous one did. Bobby didn't want to say anything more. He couldn't bring himself to, because thoughts of John and his death plagued his mind once again… and tearing up right now might not be the best thing to do in front of Rogue.

"I had a dream last night."

Bobby's head snapped in Rogue's direction when he heard her speak up in a voice that sounded distant and faraway and fragile, but strangely loud.

"It was when we first sat under the tree."

She had a wistful smile on her face now.

The _Tree_.

_The_ tree.

Their spot.

The one that belonged to the three of them.

"He was there," she mumbled. "And you too," she added. "And so was I…"

"Rogue…"

"He was the one who brought us there. He found it."

"Yeah."

"I wonder if we'll ever sit under there again one of these days. That would be nice."

Bobby couldn't take it anymore. He really couldn't. This was killing him on the inside.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, he shook her gently.

"Rogue. Marie. He's dead. I'm begging you… stop doing this to yourself."

Rogue snapped out of her trance in an instant. "He's not dead!" she screamed.

Bobby was startled at this sudden change in conduct, but recovered quite quickly. "You're in denial, Rogue. Listen -"

"He's _**NOT**__ DEAD_. **HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!**"

Silence.

"He's… not."

And all at once, she broke down in a sudden torrent of tears. "He's not… not dead…" she murmured over and over again. "Not dead… not dead… he can't be."

"I'm sorry, Rogue. I'm sorry…"

She wailed once more and buried herself in Bobby's arms, shaking violently and sobbing tears of grief that stained his rain-drenched coat. He hugged her, sharing his pain.

"Why…?" she finally managed to whisper.

"To save us," Bobby whispered back. He found himself crying, not for the first time that day.

Finally, Marie D'Ancanto had broken out of denial…

… But, Bobby Drake knew it would be awhile before she would reach acceptance.

There they were, two friends mourning the death of a third… Two corners left of a beautiful love-hate triangle… The remaining embers of a dying flame…

He was gone. John was gone.

And the ones who suffered the most were, at this moment in time, crying in each others' arms.

Even after the fights, the heartbreak, the sorrow, the losses… their very friendship and love for each other that ran between the three _had no boundaries_… because somewhere along the way, they had all known deep down inside, that there were no lines between.

They were the Golden Trio. And they always will be.

---

_**And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?  
Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you.**_

_- Fix You, Coldplay_

_--- _

_-A/N-: This chapter was written mostly in Bobby's perspective, because he was one of them. And apart from the main protagonists John and Marie, Bobby was also one of the major characters that made up this fic._

_R.I.P Johnny. We loved you.  
_

_Well, one more to go._

_Feedback is greatly appreciated._

_A big thank you to __**Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, lets go for life wont wait, coup fatal, carter13, Pyrowhore, SkyRogue, The Truth About Roses, we-r-the-cure, Beachy, Sergeant Scarlett and AGirlBrushedRed**__ for the reviews. :)_


	30. XXX: Epilogue

**The Epilogue**

-------

Ezekiel 'Blackguard' Blacken's defeat had been mentioned on the news and in the papers as though the world outside 'mutant affairs' had cared. Even now, two weeks following the collapse of the Woodbridge Asylum, the media still had plenty to say about the whole incident. Hank McCoy made significant appearances on national television on more than just a couple of occasions to methodically explain the mess and clear up the doubts about the whole issue concerning the _'Eradicators'_. Interviews with the loved ones of the people who died were aired on radio, including a conversation with Warren Worthington the Third; which wasn't surprising, seeing as his father had been an important figurehead in the pharmaceutical company that invented the Cure…

It seemed as though what transpired at Woodbridge was still the major talk of the town.

However, the past fourteen days saw the Xavier mansion in deep silence. There was none of the usual school din that could be heard from afar—no shouting voices of students running helter-skelter through hallways or screeches of desks and chairs being dragged across classroom floorboards.

There was nothing.

Everyone seemed to have been deeply affected by either the deaths of friends or by the betrayal of Pietro Maximoff. Those who had known Pietro and shared his classes for the short amount of time he had been at the school were shocked and horrified by what he had done. "He never seemed like the type to actually do such a thing," Jubilee had said, more upset than outraged. "Kidnapping Rogue… just to get back at his dad!" No one had been impressed by what the speed demon had done, but everyone had felt some kind of sympathy for him, because to them, what happened to him in the past was nothing short of a pitiful experience. He was left to die in a mental institute at such a young age with his twin sister—a sister he cared for deeply. But somehow, he had managed to escape that fate. Only to be killed years later in an attempt to avenge his sister's death… in another mental institute. Fate had a way with dealing with the damned.

Jubilation Lee hadn't really gotten over the death of her friend, Tabitha. And when she heard of John's death as soon as they returned from the rescue mission, it was the final blow. She hadn't been terribly close to John. But _he_ had been the very first person she had actually talked to and got to be acquainted with when she arrived at the school as a new student. She had assumed he died after he never came back from Alkali Lake, but no one had seemed very upset about it then. This time around, it was different. He had died a hero and a saviour. He went down fighting. And Jubilee knew she would never ever again set eyes on the mutant that she had so affectionately christened the _Brotherhood Boy_.

Raven spent most of her time either in her room deep in thought, or alone outside, staring at the unmoving headstones that bore the names of her two departed comrades. She had accepted Professor Xavier's offer to join the X-Men a few days ago and wasn't quite sure why she did, only knowing that the team was formed by Magneto's best friend and that Pyro had been in it for awhile. That, she supposed, was reason enough to join the party.

The shape-shifter sat there now, half a month after the ordeal, her jet-black hair billowing about in the breeze and the setting sun throwing glowing rays of scarlet illumination around the grassy area. She sat there, staring – just staring – at those monuments. She never once acknowledged Pietro's headstone while she was there, being one of the few who held no ounce of remorse nor sorrow for his death. No matter what the boy's reasons were, she would never forgive the boy for as long as she lived. It just wasn't fair that he had traded his life for the lives of both Magneto and Pyro.

It wasn't fair…

If it was one thing Bobby Drake had in common with Mystique, it was his unyielding desire to blame everything that had happened on Pietro. Now, as he wandered the quiet corridors of the seemingly empty school, the bloody pinpricks of fast-fading sunlight filtering through the windows, he wondered to himself if Pietro had really died in the asylum. They never exactly _saw_ him in person at the site… There wasn't any indication that he had been there at the time. So, there was a slender possibility that he had made it out alive…

_Don't even think about it,_ Bobby told himself. _He's not worth the trouble._

The Iceman ran into Kitty on the way to the library. She was looking much better in comparison to the previous week, and it relieved him immensely. It was good to see that her counselling sessions with Xavier and Ms. Munroe were helping.

"Hey, Kitty," he offered.

"Hi." Her voice was subdued. But she managed a hint of a smile.

"Uhh…" Bobby scratched his head uncertainly. "I was meaning to ask… Will you be at dinner?" He knew that she had a tendency to skip meals nowadays. But since tonight was different, he couldn't help but wonder…

She frowned, and the look she was giving him bordered on sadness, as though she knew what he was getting at. "Yeah…" she murmured, and it was a promise. "I will."

Bobby took a deep breath. It wasn't like she didn't already know. Everyone around the mansion had known the occasion that was coming. And today was _the_ day. It just seemed much too hard to mention it out loud.

"I think there's going to be a commemoration to celebrate it tonight," he said with quiet reserve.

"I know."

"But it wouldn't be the same without him…"

"… I know…"

There was a contemplative silence.

"Where's… where's Rogue?"

"She wants some time alone."

"… Will she be there?"

Bobby was quiet for a few moments. _She said she would, _he said to himself. _She gave her word._

But his reply was hesitant.

"I don't know, Kitty. I really don't know…"

---

She didn't know what brought her there in the first place. She had just felt the urge – the desperate _need_ – to visit the place once more. Just once more. Just for the sake of it. Just for the undisturbed quiet. Just to get away from the mansion. Again.

The long, slow walk had all but helped to clear her messed up head. In fact, it had caused her to accumulate so very many pent-up memories and unvoiced thoughts that she felt as though the weight of the world were upon her. It didn't exactly help with the number of people in her mind at the moment, filling up whatever empty spaces that were left to spare. It made her wonder if the feelings she had now at that moment was genuinely her own, or belonged to someone else entirely…

She had told no one where she had gone off to; exactly like the last time she made her unspoken leave. Well, she told no one except for Bobby. But even then, she didn't tell him _where._ Only that she was going out for awhile to think about stuff. And the boy had offered to come with her. But she had told him no, she didn't want company, and he accepted her answer graciously and let her go, no questions asked. If it were any other point in time, he would have insisted that she take someone along just in case something happened.

But not today.

And Rogue was thankful.

Bobby Drake had been extremely patient with her ever since the Woodbridge Asylum incident. He had been continuously helping her to get back on her feet again. It had been a tough time for him as well and it showed, with all his sleepless nights and vacant-eyed gazes. And Rogue knew that he wasn't alone. Many others were still recovering from the aftermath. The Professor and Ms. Munroe had been helping a few, including Warren, Jubilee and Kitty, to cope with the untimely losses… Rogue's first conversation with Raven Darkholme a few days back had resulted in the both of them crying and hugging and unable to say anything coherent at all.

The mansion was a in a gloomy, melancholic and vulnerable state at the moment. And Rogue believed that it would be for a long time to come.

Just because of all the deaths.

The deaths at Alcatraz that happened only months before.

The deaths of the young mutants.

The death of Warren's father.

The death of Pietro Maximoff.

The death of Erik Lensherr.

The death of John Allerdyce.

Now, as she sat there at the bus stop, in the very same seat she had claimed all those weeks ago (as though it would make a difference), she realised that she had known it all along, deep down inside.

She had known it all along; the _real reason_ why she was _there_. She knew all along why she had almost mindlessly, unconsciously, stepped out of the mansion and walked the long distance to that very bus stop.

It was _hope_.

Hope…

Hope that maybe, just _maybe_, she would find _him_ there, waiting for her. After all, it was the place that she had been unexpectedly reunited with him for the first time since their separation at Alkali Lake.

It was a ridiculous thought, of course. John had been dead for two weeks now. She saw it happen with her own eyes. There was not a sliver of chance that the pyrokinetic manipulator would be coming back. And she _knew_ that. It wasn't like she was denying it anymore. But she knew, despite all the odds against her, that St. John Allerdyce _had_ done the impossible and _had_ survived the massacre at Alcatraz and came _here_ to this very place to talk to her for the first time since he left. If anything, she believed that if he were still somehow alive out there, he would come _here_.

And she kept telling herself that. It was what she wanted to believe.

"_Didn't they ever tell you that littering's bad for the environment?"_

He would come here. With that familiar smirk gracing his lips.

"_Pyro?"_

He would talk to her. As though he had never left her alone for the second time.

"_So it's Pyro now, huh? You always ever called me John. Never Pyro. What gives?"_

And it would be just like what it was before.

"_I'm sorry, _John._"_

It would be just like how it was before he made his sacrifice.

"_Nah, just stick with calling me Pyro. It sounds so much more-"_

He would come here.

"_Cooler. I know."_

She kept telling herself that. It was _everything_ she wanted to believe.

"_Damn straight."_

And so, she sat there under the bus shelter… sat there until the sun disappeared over the horizon, never to rise again until the very next day. She sat there, with no ashes of burnt photographs swirling around her feet, no warmth of a second person sitting next to her, no shoulder to lean on, nobody to keep her company in the silence.

And she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Images of John flashed through her mind. She still had many of his memories, all stolen during his outburst at Bobby's front yard, stolen when they had kissed… twice… She still had his powers, and she knew they were growing within her because of the Cure's after-effects. It was as though John literally lived within her. Even though he was no longer living in the real world.

He was dead.

And she never attended the funeral. Never said her goodbyes like the others had. Never had the chance to say out-loud in front of him… that she had loved him. Her chances were spent… She never thought of it as important. But now, she knew better.

Now, she knew it was too late.

Too late to say things that were meant to be said.

Sighing a quivering sigh, she took in a breath of frosty air and spoke into the dark silence with the words that were left unspoken until today, hoping that it might somehow absolve her of her sins.

"John? If you can hear me from wherever you are," she said, her voice soft and gentle, her head tilted up to the dark sky, "I – I want you to know that I miss you. And… and that I really love you. And… thank you. For doing what you did to save our lives." Her eyes were overly bright and her voice was so quiet that even she herself couldn't hear it.

What she whispered next was enough reason to cause her to tremble and a single tear to escape her lashes and down her cheek slowly.

"Happy birthday, Johnny."

_Happy birthday, St. John Allerdyce._

_HappybirthdayIloveyouIhopeyoulovedmetoocomebackplease._

Yes, it was his birthday today. Just one month following her own birthday. It was today.

_Today._

"No, I didn't forget," she continued in her hushed murmur, as though she were uttering a secret that she wanted no one but the ghosts to hear. "And if you were still here with us, we'd all be celebrating this day together. You and me and Bobby and Jubilee and Piotr and Kitty… And… And you'd be opening your presents and making your awful comments about our tastes in gifts…"

The tear dripped down onto her neck as she smiled a wry smile. The memories of John's previous birthdays were being replayed in her mind like the rewinding of an old, black and white film.

"… And you'd be lighting your own candles on your own cake with that… that lighter of yours…" Pause. "That lighter that you told me had been like a part of you. That lighter that you gave me for _my_ birthday. That lighter that saved our lives but killed you…"

She cursed herself. She was doing it again. _Crying._

She just couldn't help it.

It was getting very cold. And it was getting very late.

She looked down at the watch around her wrist with blurry vision, trying to make out the time in the gloom.

It was approaching eight.

They were having dinner at this very moment right now.

And she promised Bobby she'd be there.

… _I'm sorry Bobby. I can't… I hope you understand._

She wanted to be alone tonight. She _needed_ to be alone tonight. It was just one of those moments where you wished to be left alone in peace to get over things of the past.

She spent another long hour in the darkness, just thinking to herself. Of fire and zippo lighters and windows with wrapped parcels on ledges and shady trees and snowball fights and feuds between fire and ice in bedrooms and shared kisses and confrontations between good and evil.

And soon… it was nine.

Her hour went by quickly.

"_I never wanted it to end this way."_

She didn't know if she had said it out loud or only just thought it in her head. But those words echoed around her deafeningly…

Standing, she rubbed at her arms in hopes to warm them. It was time to return home before she froze to death. _Home…_ she never thought she'd call the mansion her home ever again.

Turning at a pace that was slow and in no way deliberate, she started walking away, unsure if this was the very last time she would ever be visiting the forsaken bus stop. She kept going, not even a backward glance. Just continued at a steady pace away from it all. She wanted to leave the spot. There were just too many memories that the place had brought and too many feelings that it evoked. She had shed too many tears already. It was time to move on.

_Because things change._

_They always do._

And as she reached the end of the street, ready to round the corner of the block of grey-walled buildings, she stopped under a lone street lamp – the only one down the dim alley – with the bright halo of light spilling down over her, illuminating her white streaks of hair. And she took one last look at the bus stop, now tiny in the distance and almost concealed in the darkness, before turning away again. Just one last time, before leaving it behind.

And maybe, just maybe, she had imagined it. Maybe she just imagined the lone figure gazing at her from afar under the shelter, veiled in the shadows of the night, just at the spot where she had been sitting moments before.

Maybe.

-------  
_**end.  
**_-------

_**-A/N-:**__ My friends, it is __**done**__. This sequel (and this whole fic in general) was a huge project for me. It's probably one of the greatest pieces I've written (the top on my list being the 'Sanctification' one-shot Ryro fic I wrote about 11 months ago which actually made me cry when working on it). This fic started on the 3__rd__ of June 2006, and this thirtieth chapter concluded the sequel on the 5__th__ of August 2007. Wow, we've come a long way huh?_

_**Note: **__There's another 'End-of-Credits' scene that shows a meeting between two people 60 days down the road. **(WHICH IS A HUGE HINT THAT THERE MIGHT BE ANOTHER SEQUEL)**_

_**Another note:**__ Feedback and constructive reviews (yes, constructive!) are greatly appreciated. Tell me what you liked, what you hated, what your favourite scene in this fic was, etc. _

_FOR NOW, we'll just let the music commence and the credits roll! I made an actual 'Credits in Motion' Music Video (with awesome music and pretty clips of our lead characters)… Go look for it:)_

_**CREDITS:**_

_**Cast of Characters:  
(According to appearance)**_

_Bobby Drake / Iceman_

_John Allerdyce / Pyro_

_Marie D'Ancanto / Rogue_

_Katherine "Kitty" Pryde / Shadowcat_

_Jubilation Lee / Jubilee_

_Logan / Wolverine_

_Ororo Munroe / Storm_

_Charles Xavier / Professor X_

_Jimmy / Leech_

_Warren Worthington III / Angel_

_Raven Darkholme / Mystique (Risty Wilde / Foxx)_

_Pietro Maximoff / Quicksilver_

_Jasper Noel / Firethorn_

_Piotr Rasputin / Colossus_

_Henry "Hank" McCoy / Beast_

_Ezekiel Blacken / Blackguard_

_Erik Lensherr / Magneto_

_Samuel "Sam" Guthrie / Cannonball_

_Callisto_

_**(Characters mentioned)**_

_Jean Grey / Phoenix_

_Scott Summers / Cyclops_

_Kurt Wagner / Nightcrawler_

_Angie Vidette / Stardust_

_Warren Worthington II_

_Tabitha Smith / Boom Boom_

_Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch_

_Amara Aquilla / Magma_

_Lance Alvers / Avalanche_

_Ronnie Drake_

_**Acknowledgments and Special Thanks:**_

_**Marvel Comics: **__For obvious reasons. _

_**Stanford, Paquin, Ashmore and the rest of the acting cast from the films:**__ For making everything real for us. You people are made of awesome._

_**The Pyro/Rogue fans:**__ Because you guys make the world a better place. x)_

_**All the wonderful REVIEWERS, READERS and SUPPORTERS**__: I can't thank you guys enough. Especially the ones who started reading this from the moment the first chapter was posted. I do hope you've all enjoyed reading all thirty chapters. I know I really enjoyed __writing__ them._

_**(End credits)**_

---

---

---

---

_Fade in-_

"_Who are you to tell _me_ that? You don't know me anymore, Robert Drake. I'm no longer the Johnny Allerdyce you used to know."_

"… _You were never the John I used to know."_

_-Fade out_


	31. XXXI: Before Dawn

**TILL THE END**  
**- Prologue -  
Chapter 31: Before Dawn**

---

_Calm_ was the only word Bobby Drake could come up with this night, when there seemed nothing quite out of the ordinary going on in the mansion in which he, as a teenager, had spent most of his schooling life in since the discovery of his powers. _Calm_ could only effectively describe the emotions and surrounding atmosphere that ran lazily through the building. It was a peaceful tranquillity that was a nice, almost welcome feeling to embrace following the storm after storm that gripped their lives throughout the course of the year.

Many disastrous events and adversity had been endured in only the span of a few months, and when the mutant teen looked back, it felt as though it had all happened a time so very long ago. It went by like a flash of lightning; fast, but still fresh and visible in his mind. Scenes were burnt into the retinas of his eyes and they would replay over and over and never fade completely, even in the darkness. He hoped that somehow, he would be given the chance to let some of the more sorrowful, heartbreaking memories rest and gradually leave him in peace. Not that he _wanted_ to forget completely. He wasn't sure anymore whether the others he knew were fairing as well as their façade was truly allowing them – he wasn't sure if _they_ would ever let go of past history. But at least he was willing to try, and he was willing to help.

_Calm._ At least tonight, the mansion was calm. That was better than what Bobby could say two months ago. Finally, things seemed to have returned to a much-needed state of normalcy. He wasn't surprised that it had taken this long. Or maybe it was just him – after all, he had been one of the few directly affected by everything that transpired close to sixty days ago. _Directly_ affected… deeply and to the core.

Sometimes, if not all the time – _every_ time – he thought and wondered if things would ever be the same. And then he would shake his head and chide himself silently. _Of course_ things would be okay. But something else tugged at him in the inner parts of his heart, making him feel oddly empty and vacant at times.

Maybe not, then.

Voices of children filtered through the corridors of the night-lit, castle-like manor and Bobby could still, from his room, distinctly make out the soft tinkling of cutlery on china from the dining hall where the last of the mutants were finishing up their late-night dinner. They were sounds muffled by the lukewarm air that swept through the walls, reminding residents that summer was almost approaching.

The sky was a little more than just a black abyss allowing for the infinitesimal glitter of stars to trail aimlessly within its inky depths, looking helpless and lost but knowing their places well enough to linger and glimmer with a hard, unfathomable hope that would last until the blazing sun washed the sky in white in the morning.

The ice-attributed mutant sighed and turned away from the window, redirecting his paper-thin thoughts to the matter at hand that was sitting innocently on his desk: the drafted essay he was cross-examining. He couldn't make head nor tail of the remarkably detailed piece, although there was a perfectly good explanation for this. He was much too distracted by the name that was written neatly across the first page in block letters (and other things besides). He'd been staring at the lone name continuously since he'd attempted to read and correct the paper until he found he had to look away to reorganise his mind. The boy gave another frustrated sigh, ruffled his hair for what seemed like the tenth time and leant back in his chair in a huff. There were just too many things running through his head.

His roommate looked up curiously with his head cocked to one side, inspecting the boy at the desk from where he was, sprawled on his bedspread.

"What's eating you?" It was a harmless enough question. One that brought Bobby's wandering mind to a standstill.

The Iceman grunted. "Nothing, Pete. This is just… taking much longer than I expected." He made a vague gesture at the desk in front of him.

Piotr raised an eyebrow and got up, languidly crossing the small distance between him in just a few measured strides to where his friend sat, peering over Bobby's shoulder to gaze at the article that had him so troubled.

"You know," the bigger mutant said after awhile, "you've been at that for an hour. And it looks like you've _just_ made the second paragraph." Piotr indicated the amendments and comments that Bobby had scribbled in red writing along the sides. "Why don't you just admit it? Pryde's way too smart for you to be correcting her essays. I'll bet she's smarter than you ever _were_ when you were at her level."

Although there was truth in those words, Bobby felt the need to retort. "Hey!" he defended, "She was the one who asked for tutoring! And I complied!" Which was technically true. Kitty had approached Bobby weeks ago and very politely requested for some tutoring sessions in both Physics and World History if he could, of course, afford to give some time up. Naturally, almost willingly, the boy agreed. _Only because she needed the help_, he had stated on day one. Of course, Kitty was a genius in her own right and Bobby wondered if tuition was even necessary for someone like her. Her grades _had_, arguably, dropped somewhat following the incidents at Alcatraz and Woodbridge, but she was still coping far better than Bobby ever had when he was her age.

"You _complied_," Piotr echoed with a knowledgeable nod, "That makes all the difference, Bobby. You could've just said no, you know?"

"What kind of friend would that make me, exactly?" Bobby shot back.

"Right, right. Sorry. You _don't_ have to bite my head off." The well-built mutant retreated back to his bed with a shake of his head. "Everyone knows you just couldn't resist helping the kitty cat."

The Iceman shot an annoyed glare at Piotr. "What in the… What was that supposed to mean?" he grated. However, his roommate didn't take much notice, already engrossed in the book he was reading prior to Bobby's distracted sighs.

Bobby rolled his eyes and looked back down to where the essay lay, then picked up his pen, trying once more to focus. It was a very good thesis, there was no denying that. Nothing was wrong with it. Bobby frowned and attempted to scribble some feedback along the margin of the page. All his comments ended up being words of praise, however. 'Good' and 'excellent' were scattered here and there. If he were Kitty's professor, he'd be giving her an 'A' already, without even reading the _whole_ twenty-seven paragraphs.

A little more than an hour later, he threw the pen down and gave up completely, deciding that he didn't need to actually finish examining it tonight and that he could do it tomorrow instead.

_Besides, I think all I really have to do is give the whole thing a big tick and something like 'great work!' written right at the bottom._ Bobby sighed hopelessly. Kitty _was_ way too smart for him to actually be much use as a tutor.

"Done _already_?" Piotr looked amused, his expression almost disbelieving. "Thought you'd need another three hours or something." He squinted at Bobby, feigning suspicion, "Or did you just throw in the towel?"

Bobby rose from his chair, stretching his stiff limbs purposefully, and tried not to let Piotr's remark get the better of him. Besides, he had other things on his mind. His eyes unconsciously flickered to a photograph that stood in a frame on his desk in an isolated corner. Another empty feeling took hold of him. "I'll do the rest first thing tomorrow," Bobby murmured, turning the photo frame away from him. "Right now, I'm feeling kind of restless." The boy paced his way to the door. "So… I'm off."

"Off?"

"Y'know, to train. I could use a work out right about now."

Piotr blinked. "It's nearly ten," he stated, as though his friend had somehow suggested something absurd. "A bit late for a little trip to the Danger Room, don't you think?"

Bobby placed a hand on the door knob, ready to turn it. "Yeah, well, I've got a lot on my mind lately and I really need to distract myself with something."

Piotr almost said something, thought better of it, and sighed. "Alright. Fine. I get you." He regarded Bobby contemplatively. "But don't strain yourself. Just because you're such a big shot now doesn't mean you gotta' let your powers get to your head. And I expect you back before midnight at least. You're not an expert at working the DR system."

Bobby stared at Piotr. "What are you? My personal time keeper? Or some sort of special faultfinder?"

"You've got that essay you've gotta' finish marking, remember? And you have that session with Rogue, Mister Logan and Miss Darkholme after breakfast too. I think you'd need _some_ sleep."

"You really _are_ my personal time keeper," Bobby muttered, turning the handle and opening the door. He threw a look back at his friend. "Don't worry. I won't take long."

"You sure you don't need a partner?"

"I think I should be able to cope. But thanks for offering… See you in a bit." And he was out of the room in moments, shutting the door behind him carefully.

Piotr stared at the closed door with a frown tugging at his lips, thinking that maybe his friend was going too far. He wasn't blind to all this. He could see how much Bobby had changed over the past few weeks, growing more and more distant and dazed and almost withdrawn, but still keeping up a positive front as though no one knew what he was trying to do.

He looked to Bobby's desk, the picture of the ice mutant and his two best friends – one deceased, the other highly strung as of late – was now facing the wall.

"Man… what're you trying to _run_ from?" Piotr muttered to the empty room.

_---_

The corridors were mostly empty. Which should be the case, since it was technically a school night, and students had to be in bed before the lights went out at ten.

It was great that curfews didn't apply to Bobby any longer. One of the privileges of being a full-fledged member of the X-Men Team was that he was viewed as more than 'just another mutant kid' by the others. He had been granted authority and power that people such as Ororo Munroe and Logan held at the Institute. Not that Bobby really used it to his advantage much. Being on the X-Team may have taken him out of his status as 'mere adolescent mutant', especially after his show at Alcatraz and his support during the Woodbridge episode, but Bobby would never ever want to turn into one of the figureheads at the school. Somehow, being called _Professor_ Drake didn't quite appeal to him.

He definitely had a big day ahead of him tomorrow. There was a guidance course in the morning, as Piotr had pointed out, whereby him, Raven and Logan were to help Rogue in controlling her still-rapidly-growing powers. They had been developing at an unstable rate ever since returning in full-force prior to being Cured. These guidance sessions were held every other day of the week to ensure that she used her developing powers appropriately and to improve her capabilities. Of course, Bobby would never have thought he'd see the day Rogue would have full control over ice, fire, metal, as well as the abilities of shapeshifting, heightened senses _and_ accelerated healing. If anything, she was still slightly unsound with her budding powers… but he could undeniably see the day were she'd be an extremely powerful mutant.

It was unfortunate that only three of the five mutants that she had skin-on-skin contact with could be present to teach her how to handle her powers. But Bobby knew she'd been more than willing to learn on her own when it came to metal and fire manipulation. He suspected it had something to do with respecting their original owners and not permitting others to interfere with her decision to find out how to control them on her own.

Bobby admired her for that. And from what he understood during a display a few days back, she seemed to have excelled in fire manipulation more than anything else.

He smiled softly, if not a little melancholically.

He _was_ proud of her. Somehow, he counted himself extremely lucky to have her as a best friend and to have had her as his girlfriend for a period of time, even though it was short-lived.

The walk down to the Danger Room took him awhile and when he finally arrived at the doorway that led to his destination, he was determined to lose himself in a few hours of physical activity, all in hopes of getting him to empty his thoughts and hopefully grant him better sleep tonight.

---

He was at it for what seemed like a long time, just mindlessly dodging random projectiles, shooting frozen shards at things and predominantly running around the holographically enhanced room from what seemed like small robotic _things_. He had programmed the system for an easy, not-so-life-threatening session. And really, it wasn't all that challenging nor demanding to his physique. All he had to do, really, was keep on his feet and stay the hell away from those robots. Simple.

It was monotonous and almost mechanical, forcing him to only concentrate solely on the task at hand. And it _did_ help in liberating the concerns that were bugging him all day.

Maybe an hour or two passed, he wasn't sure, but he was starting to feel like he was straining himself. Who knew generating ice through the reduction of heat in the air around him would take such a toll on his body? He stopped to catch his breath for a few moments, thinking that maybe he should stop soon and return back to his room. But then…

"I thought I heard something in here."

Bobby realised that the holographic projections around him were melting away, and once again, he found himself standing in the middle of the empty Danger Room. Puzzled for a second, he looked around to see who had spoken and spotted Professor Xavier standing at the entrance, looking at him with an amused smile.

"Er, um…" Bobby said intelligently, floundering for something to say.

"I was just next door," the Professor explained pleasantly, gesturing vaguely behind him in the direction of Cerebro. "I'd already sensed you were in here long before. You were concentrating pretty hard, so it wasn't hard not to be aware of your presence. But it's just as well you're here, or I would have had to look for you and most likely drag you out of the comfort of your bed."

Bobby looked confused at this, and Xavier seemed to notice.

"I need you to do me a favour," the Professor said, clarifying his obscure implication.

"Oh."

"I'd like you to think of it as a solo mission. Your very first solo mission." The man nodded, tapping a finger against his chin as though he were deep in thought about the whole thing. "Well, it's more of an investigation, really… Do you think I could count on you to find something out for me tonight? And for yourself as well, I suppose," he added, almost ambiguously.

Bobby couldn't really decline the task. So he nodded. "Sure, Professor. What's the deal?" He was just a little curious and somehow, a little anxious at the same time. Xavier _never_ singled him out of the X-Team to do something. Not on his own.

The once wheelchair-bound professor looked a tad contemplative at the moment as he studied Bobby unseeingly. "I want you to confirm something for me. But I don't quite know what just yet."

"Okay…"

"It's a little hard to explain. Just go down to Dwyer Street for me."

" Dwyer Street?" Bobby was startled. That wasn't what he was expecting _at all_. "Now? At _this_ hour?"

"Yes."

Bobby couldn't help but frown. "Wouldn't everything be… well, closed?"

Xavier sighed. "I'm not asking you to enter any of the stores, Robert. I want you to just…" Pause. "Just ah, patrol the area for a few hours, if that isn't too much to ask. Cerebro has picked up a couple of odd readings lately. I want you to check it out."

_Oh._

"What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary."

"You sure you don't want anyone else to accompany me?"

This time, Xavier looked long and hard at the ice mutant. It was awhile before he gave him an answer with a headshake. "No. I think I rather you go alone. Besides," there was a twinkle in his eye, "I don't think any of the X-Men would appreciate being hauled out of bed at this hour."

Bobby nodded, trying not to look too disgruntled about this whole 'investigation' business. In truth, he was pretty annoyed as soon as the Professor told him that he was to make a solo trip to a place that was fifteen minutes away by foot.

"Alright. Sure. I'll leave right away." The Iceman replied finally with a nod. He quickly made his way past Xavier and out the door.

He was _so_ ready to have a good night's sleep… And it had to be ruined by this little surprise expedition that he had to undertake. He groaned inwardly.

"Oh, and by the way, Robert," the Professor called out to him as Bobby was striding down the short, white-walled passageway, "I know it's not essential, but wearing your suit in the Danger Room should be made a habit. For safety reasons, of course. I know Logan doesn't do it, but really, _you_ should."

"Er… Right." Bobby continued on his way, mentally shaking his head.

---

It was late. Something past midnight, he reckoned. He vaguely recalled the promise he made to Piotr about getting back to his dorm before midnight. _Well, no such luck on that,_ Bobby told himself mentally. He sighed as he finally turned into Dwyer Street. He stopped at the corner, just looking down the dark boulevard. It was just that; a street. Two rows of shop-houses bordered each side of the narrow road, all of them closed for the night. It seemed that _everything_ looked outlandish. But that was probably because the place looked so different at night compared to in pure sunlight.

He had never been down here after sundown.

There was close to no lighting on the street. And all was quiet. Bobby could hardly see anything in the gloom as he gazed down the length of the entire avenue, only making out shop signs, dim street lamps, vague sign posts, and the outline of the single bus stop that stood somewhere halfway down the street.

He used to frequent this place, back when he was still living the youthful days at Xavier's institute. On weekends and sometimes after schooling hours, he and his friends would take the fifteen minute stroll down to Dwyer Street – the nearest shopping district from the mansion. It was almost a hang-out spot for most of the kids at Xavier's. The stores ranged from fast-food chains to candy stores to cheap boutiques. But the place that Bobby and his posse visited the most was the café that sold ice cream. The trio would just sit there and chat, over ice cream of course.

Those days seemed like a century ago.

It's been too long since he had the chance to do that.

Not that it would be the same, anyways.

Bobby shook himself out of his memories and started to pace down the street at a slow pace.

He couldn't seem to shake off the sinister vibe he was receiving from the place as he tried hard not to look directly at any one of the stores with glass windows. He was more than a little fearful of what he might find looking back at him from behind, or something like that.

_Jeez, you watch too many horror movies. There's nothing to fear,_ he told himself firmly. _You've been here millions of times. Just… not in the middle of the night. And if something happens…_

He clenched a fist, resisting the urge to conjure up a shard of ice.

It just felt so spine-chillingly _creepy_ here when the sun wasn't up in the sky to bathe the place in daylight.

"Well 'ello, what've we here?"

Bobby whipped around wildly, heart suddenly speeding up erratically as the gruff voice leaped out at him from the darkness.

His eyes landed on two men that were advancing down the shadowy street towards him. Both looked shabby and unkempt, dressed in faded clothing.

Bobby nearly sighed with relief as he tried to get his nerves sorted.

"Yous mus' be reeeeally craaaazy to be strollin' dow' here at his thour."

Bobby's sigh of relief morphed into an inward groan.

_Oh, great. I'm gonna' be mobbed by a pair of drunken street bums._

They were more than _a little_ woozy by the looks of it. In fact, Bobby realised they'd had too much booze to even walk straight. And the leers they were sending his direction did _not_ make him feel any more comfortable about the situation. Looks like his wallet and valuable possessions weren't the only things they felt like obtaining from the teenager.

"Hey! He's jus' a little kid!" the first speaker gesticulated to his friend whilst squinting hard at Bobby as though he were almost blind in the gloom that shrouded them. The two had stopped short a few feet from the mutant, looking on at him in a pretty disturbing manner. "He's jus' some street punk! Ya see that, Al?"

_Just a little kid? Street punk?_ Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Look guys, I don't want any trouble."

"Ooooh… ya just lookin' for trouble, kiddo. Whatcha' doin' out in the dark past midnight henyways? Seems purty susip- suspip– suspiccy to us," the second speaker, 'Al', slurred loudly. "Betcha' he's wantin' a fight! Eh, Dan?" he babbled, elbowing his friend in the ribs, prompting a confirmation.

Instead of replying, 'Dan' reeled sideways from his companion's nudge, collapsing to the ground in a drunken stupor, as though he'd been punched and not elbowed. He fell unceremoniously and seemed to have tremendous trouble getting back up. Bobby almost laughed at this display of idiocy.

"S'wrong with ya? Danny? _Hey_!"

Danny pawed at the air, glaring up at his friend with a frown. "Ya pushed me! Ya freakin' mushed pee!"

Bobby really couldn't help it. He snorted.

Al swivelled around and stared at Bobby, expression livid.

"Ya think that's funny, do ya?" he advanced towards Bobby once more, staggering every few steps.

He saw it coming just in time; Bobby sidestepped the man's first attempt to knock him to the ground. But that wasn't all. Al, or whatever his name was, swung around and aimed another sloppy punch at Bobby's head.

"Whoa!" Bobby exclaimed, seizing the man's balled fist in mid-air. "I said I didn't want trouble! I don't want to hurt you." And he was being serious. He knew that one of the major things taught to mutants at Xavier's school was to _never_ use powers against anyone, especially humans who were at a disadvantage. He remembered an incident at the museum once that brought back certain memories of exploding cigarettes.

"Get 'im, Al!" the guy on the ground spluttered, whilst trying to pick himself up from where he fell.

Bobby blocked another blow and started to panic. Not on his behalf, but on his assailant's. He _really_ didn't want to hurt this man, no matter how drunk and stupid he was acting. In his moment of worry, Al managed to land a low hit that caused Bobby to lurch backwards and double over, almost causing him to trip over his own two feet.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crunch and Al screamed something incoherent, as though he were in an excruciating amount of pain. Bobby looked up, confused, and saw that the man had a hand clutched to the back of his head. He brought it away, stained with black-red blood. A large stone had clattered away from where it connected loudly with his skull.

"Wha' the hell? Whozzat throwin' _rocks_ at me?!" He stared around at his friend, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers. "What?!" he yelped, not liking the look on his buddy's face, consequently wincing as he felt more blood gush from the cut on his head.

"It came from _them_!" Danny's voice was a high-pitched shrill that echoed around the narrow street. His eyes were darting to stare around at the inky shadows with a demented gleam.

"_Them_?"

"You know," Danny's voice dropped to a whisper, "_Ghosts_… and shit."

Al blinked. Bobby backed away from him before the drunkard decided to attack him again.

"Ghosts?" Al echoed his friend's ridiculous declaration.

Another rock came soaring out of the darkness, hitting Danny this time.

He squealed. "Oh, gods! They're tryin' to _pelt_ us to death!"

Al looked around, this time an expression of fear painted over his rough features. He impulsively grabbed his friend and hauled him to his feet with some effort. "C'mon. S'get outta' here," he grumbled urgently. His friend seemed to whole-heartedly agree with that, and the two were last seen scampering off down the street, as though the hounds of hell were after them.

Bobby was left by himself in the darkness, street lamps not bright enough to reach into the far-off shadows. Something weird was going on, and flying rocks definitely topped the list.

He gave his surroundings a once-over, glad that he was rescued by airborne pebbles but also wondering who or what the hell was hidden in the shadows that he couldn't see. He didn't even know which direction the rocks had come from.

Visibly on edge but slightly comforted by the fact that he still had his freezing powers to assist him in case the _thing_ in the dark decided to attack him as well, he pricked his ears and tried to listen for any signs of movement along the short street.

There was nothing.

Bobby frowned, straining his ears. The more he stood there in the middle of the deserted street with nothing but the dim, ineffective street lamps overhead to serve as lighting, the more his imagination ran wild.

It couldn't have been a _ghost_. That was just absurd. A few things ran through his mind at that point. Shoplifter, thief, murderer, serial killer…

The wind howled and he shivered, a tingle creeping its way up his spine.

And then he heard it. It was extremely soft and muffled. But he heard it.

It sounded like metal.

And the first thing that Bobby thought was that it could have been a gun and that he was going to get shot.

He reacted maybe a little too hastily, wildly whirling around and facing the direction he was sure the sound came from, shooting a jet of ice into the shadows on reflex.

He was definitely _not_ expecting a raging torrent of orange fire to come flaring back from the opposite end.

_Oh. What?!_

Bobby kept up his surge of frost just in time to prevent being blasted full in the face with an intense inferno that seemed to come from the shadows beyond.

_This_ topped the Weird List, right above flying rocks.

Even now, with the aid of the radiance from the blaze, Bobby couldn't make out who the offending party was on the other side. Of course, the obstruction in the way was the conflicting fire-ice struggle that was taking place between him and his new assailant. It didn't seem like this attacker was going to stop the pillar of flames any time soon. The roar of fire fusing with ice echoed around Bobby in a frenzy. Hot steam rose in thick clouds.

Both sides seemed pretty evenly matched for quite a long while. That was until Bobby raised his voice over the thunderous noises of the clashing elements.

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You?!" he yelled. "What do you _want_ from me?" He wasn't even sure if whoever was attacking him could hear or understand what he was saying. But then, the fire appeared to weaken considerably soon after his outburst.

And all of a sudden, the fire died down and almost seemed to extinguish itself. Now Bobby _could_ make out the silhouette of a lone figure standing on the opposite end of the street, hidden in darkness from where the light couldn't reach. He stopped his stream of ice in time before he could do any real harm. It didn't look like it was going to attack him anymore anyway.

"Who are you?" Bobby demanded loudly, silence once more claiming the deserted street. "Show yourself!"

Seconds ticked by, the figure unmoving and Bobby still awaiting an answer.

Then, as though finally surrendering this timeless standoff, there was a faint curse and an exasperated sigh as the figure within the shadows stepped forward and out into the illumination of the street lamps. He shook frost out of his sopping-wet hair and smeared a hand down his water-drenched face.

He was a human.

With power over fire.

_That_ made him a mutant.

Not that Bobby had any doubts about it, because, _hell_, he _knew_. He knew from the moment the thing opened its mouth to utter its curse. In fact, he might have known, somehow, from the moment he was nearly fried to a crisp.

Everything seemed to freeze. Including the Iceman's brain. He could only stare. And stare.

And then, his assailant stopped a good distance from him, as though not trusting himself to go any closer, and looked at Bobby with an air of mildly concealed amusement. He had his zippo lighter in one hand.

"_You're_ _alive_."

The words escaped Bobby before he could even _think_. It was the only thing he could think of to say in that instant. Any emotion or feelings he had had all deserted him as soon as he saw the familiar face of John Allerdyce emerge from the dark… John Allerdyce, the one person whom he swore had done something close to committing suicide two months ago.

"You're alive," Bobby repeated. This time more in wonder than in shock. If he thought that a million questions would start to plague and overcrowd his bewildered mind now, he was wrong. His head was empty and void of anything rational and coherent apart from one registered fact…

_My dead best friend is standing right in front of me._

_He shouldn't even_ be_ here._

John only gave Bobby and infuriatingly lazy smile that exuded something like a sense of nothingness and pointless resolve. It was then that Bobby saw the affliction in that one expression, and he could have sworn that there was a certain tiredness that clung to his eyes.

"Bested by the best yet again, huh?" John drawled, still smiling his lifeless smile as he pocketed the very lighter that _should have_ been destroyed in the explosion that _should have_ killed John himself.

Time started again. And Bobby's brain went into overdrive and he could sense _something_ not quite right. His mixed emotions of shock, awe and confusion had all suddenly mingled into one of guarded hesitation. The boy before him was holding something back indecisively, Bobby could tell. Whether it was something malicious or something like desolation, he couldn't tell.

"Y - you let me win this time," Bobby said cautiously, now afraid of the unchartered terrain he was treading on. _Nothing_ was _right_ at the moment. All this seemed crazy and wrong. So very crazy and so very wrong. Fear slowly crept into him. He was _afraid_. Afraid that this John was not the John he knew before death supposedly claimed him. Bobby had no room in his mind for the relief and joy he knew he should have been feeling instead. _How can you be standing in front of me? I watched you kill yourself! Where the hell have you been all this time? Why didn't you tell ANYONE?!_

Everything he wanted to say kept dying in his throat.

John laughed, his eyes glittering in the dark, and the only thing that registered in Bobby's head was how perturbing, uncharacteristic and _twisted_ his expression looked.

_John… oh, god. John, is this really you? What's happened?_

"Why can't you just admit it, Drake? You're stronger than me. Your powers surpass mine a hundredfold. Hell, you beat me at everything. I'm nothing. Can't you grasp that?" It sounded almost _sincere_ in nature; it was a remark that seemed out of the ordinary without its scathing edge.

Bobby's eyes widened, taken aback. And then just as quickly, they narrowed into slits. He wasn't about to be thrown off that easily. What'd gotten into him? Had he just given up on his old life so readily? Like it didn't mean a thing? He would never admit defeat in the past just like _that_, much less admit to anyone – especially Bobby of all people – that he was weak and incompetent. Something was definitely not right.

"You let me win," Bobby said again, this time without his previous tone of guarded caution. "I… I know you, John. We've fought plenty before. I know you weren't putting up a fight at all."

John's eyes hardened, his expression darkening his face almost instantaneously. And Bobby nearly winced. It seemed that John's eyes alone were doing all the talking needed.

"Who are you to tell _me_ that?" the pyrokinetic manipulator snapped, showing the first signs of real emotion, in the form of fury, for what seemed like the first time during their uneasy conversation. "You don't know me anymore, Robert _Drake_. I'm no longer the Johnny Allerdyce you used to know."

Bobby had to hide his surprise at the vehemence and conflicted anger in John's voice.

_I'm no longer the Johnny Allerdyce you used to know._

There was an internal struggle within Bobby as John spat those words at him. He couldn't mean it, surely? Unless… unless he was doing it on purpose. He _had_ to have a reason.

He _had _to.

"You were… never the John I used to know," Bobby replied quietly at last, locking his eyes with his best friend almost sympathetically. _But you're somewhere in there… I'm sure of it._

"And what the hell's that supposed to mean?" John exploded.

Bobby wasn't quite sure what to say after that.

The pyromaniac scowled. "I save your ass by throwing rocks at a couple of random drunks and you repay me by trying to freeze my head off!"

"I honestly didn't -"

"Oh, shut up. You know what? Forget it. Before you start asking me the whys and hows and whens -" John's weary eyes, for just a moment, seemed to betray what he meant. He faltered for a second, almost hesitant. " - I'm leaving," he finished shortly, quickly.

"John!" Bobby snarled. And he _never_ snarled.

But John already had his back turned and was making a hasty departure.

That damned idiot! Bobby had seen the conflicted look in his eyes. Why didn't he just _tell_ him what really happened and what was _going on_? Had he no sense of morality left in him?

Was he just going to _walk away_?

In a bid of desperation and a need-to-know, Bobby Drake yelled out the one thing that he thought would get a reaction out of the leaving teenager. "_Why_? Why'd you leave her hanging?"

John froze in mid-step, already half-shrouded in the gloom.

Bobby continued shouting. "Why'd you abandon all of us just when you were _becoming_ one of us again?" And it was painful for him to be saying this. "You've emotionally _wounded_ her, 'Dyce. We thought you were _happy_."

John turned on the spot and gave Bobby a level stare that held no heat and no ice. It was a stare that tried to say _something_… Something that Bobby just _didn't_ understand.

"I_ was_ happy," John replied quietly, but so clearly that it rang off the walls of the vacant stores that made the street so claustrophobically narrow.

The two looked at each other from opposite ends of the street where they stood for what seemed like an eternity before a sense of unease seemed to wash over the pyrokinetic manipulator. His entire frame grew rigid.

"I have to go," John murmured shiftily. His gaze darted off elsewhere into the shadows, as though expecting something or someone to be hidden in their murky depths.

"John…" Bobby muttered, "What -"

"_Don't_," John warned sharply, as though sensing what Bobby wanted to know and giving him the typical 'get-the-fuck-off-my-case' attitude. He turned away swiftly. "You can't – you can't help me… Not now."

And without another word, he was gone, melting into the darkness like a ghost that was never there in the first place.

---

**_-A/N-:_**_ Now, how was that for chapter XXXI?_

_This chapter was hell (because Bobby is such a hard character to write for me). And yes, I opened the sequel with Drake as the central character. I know, this is meant to be a RYRO fic, but I feel like I'm going to have to establish Bobby's character early on in this last part of the story because he'll play a major part later on (and he is, after all, part of the trio). The next chapter will be Rogue, I promise._

**WARNING:**** Till The End is going to be extremely complicated, extremely confusing and much darker than the previous instalments ever were. So if you don't like what's coming up, it is advised that you shouldn't continue reading.**

**_- REVIEW! -_**


	32. XXXII: Revelations and Insinuations

**Chapter 32: Revelations Under Insinuations**

**---**

**Approximately 2 hours and 52 minutes ago…**

"_That's it, I'm getting out of here. I need some goddamn air in this goddamn oppressive place. How in the hell did you people even manage to live down here for so long? I need _out. _**Now**__."_

"_Whoa, whoa! Hold on, fella. Y're not goin' nowhere. If de monsieur Jean-Luc catches y' gone, he' sure to mistrust y' even more."_

"_Jesus. I've been here more than eight solid weeks now. He's learnt to trust me. And I doubt he'll wanna' kill me when he finds out. Why the hell would he go through all the trouble of saving my life only to kill me again? Just chill, alright?"_

"… '_Chill'? Do y' jus' realise what y' jus' said? Cannot believe y' of all people are tellin' Remy t' chill."_

"_I know, it just slipped. Just shut up and don't tell Jean-Luc if you're so bothered, then."_

"_Excusez moi? It' be all Remy's fault if he finds out, Allerdyce."_

"_Dammit, I don't care what he does to you! He seems to like you enough anyway. And I'll be back before sundown tomorrow, so it's not like he'll find out."_

"_Mon Dieu! Do y' know what time it is right now?"_

"_It's dark. And that's all it needs to be, right?"_

"_Y' be in deep shit when y' get back, Allerdyce."_

"_Whatever, LeBeau. I'm leaving."_

"_Y're hopeless… why does Remy even bot'er wit' you?"_

"'_Cause you're the one who actually pulled me out from under a flattened building?"_

"…"

"_Am I right or am I right?"_

"… _Alright, kid. But y' best not talk t' anyone while y're up dere, y'hear?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I know the rules; 'no direct contact or parlay with any other human or mutant unless otherwise in a dire situation calling for extreme measures'. I'm not stupid."_

"_An' stick to de shadows! Don' y' get y'self seen by people, bot' insiders an' outsiders. Remember, we're not supposed t'be in de habit of trustin' y' yet."_

"_Right, right. But _you_ can make an exception… pfft. If I were JL, I'd question your loyalty. But I'm not JL and I'm benefiting from your act of treason… So…"_

"_Keep goin' on, kid, an' y' can say bon voyage to y're pretty face."_

"_Jeez. Alright, alright, no need to threaten me with your blowy-uppy powers. Now excuse me, I need to live a little."_

_**---**_

_**-A/N-:**__ Marvel at this chapter's shortness! Well, that was just something so show you people that I'm not dead. But it was something of an interlude/flashback of our favourite pyromaniac. I know I promised I'd focus on Rogue this chapter, but… Bzuh, I LIED!!! Hah._

_If you found this chapter confusing, relax. All will be clearer in due time._


End file.
